


A Garden Is a Lovesome Thing

by fauvistfly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post 3B canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3462152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauvistfly/pseuds/fauvistfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the chaos has died down, Stiles attempts to find normalcy in his life. Somehow, helping Derek bring a garden back to life becomes part of that normalcy. Through the seasons, they fight, laugh, talk, eat, breathe.</p><p>In the end, they find that what comes to life is more than just a garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by the talented [risowator](http://archiveofourown.org/users/risowator/profile)! Thank you so much <3
> 
> Starts post-3b, somewhere in November, and then is canon-divergent. Just a few other things:  
> \- Boyd miraculously survives Derek’s claws (because if Derek can survive being impaled by a pole, then Boyd can live as well. Plus, how come Derek didn’t get a power boost if he killed one of his own pack? Silly details). Boyd is a part of the pack, though Erica is still dead.  
> \- Derek is not kidnapped by Kate, so the dream sequence at the end of 3b doesn’t happen. Nothing from Season 4 exists (No Liam, Mason, deadpool, etc.)  
> \- Kate is not a were-jaguar; Kate is dead from Peter’s slashing in Season 1.
> 
> a HUGE thank you to [Cain](http://actualalpha-derekhale.tumblr.com/) and [Vendelin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendelin/pseuds/Vendelin) for going through this entire fic and giving me such constructive, helpful advice. 
> 
> also to my ridiculously supportive sprinting circle: [bleep0bleep](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bleep0bleep/pseuds/bleep0bleep), [mikkimouse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse), [infectedcolors](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Infectedcolors/pseuds/Infectedcolors), [spellwovennight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spellwovennight/pseuds/spellwovennight), and [literaryoblivion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion)\--for late night cheering, last-minute editing, venting, sobbing, recipe-sharing, and overall love, I am forever grateful. <3

 

****

 

****

The weeks after everything has settled—after Allison has been buried and the nogitsune has been exorcised—are quiet. Quiet, but not peaceful. Stiles goes to school, does his work, runs laps for track and ultimately lacrosse, but he never finds peace. His mind never turns off; he keeps replaying how he stabbed Scott, how he got Malia’s allegiance by manipulating her need for touch, how he pressed Lydia against the grates and enjoyed the way she shivered in fear.

Scott understands, forgives—of course he does. He knows what it’s like to feel controlled by something other than his human side, and he never thinks that Stiles is at fault for being chosen as the nogitsune’s vessel. Scott sees the nogitsune and Stiles as two completely separate entities, so it’s not an issue for him. Stiles never corrects him.

Malia honestly doesn’t care. She doesn’t think about the emotional aspects of sex, doesn’t see the ethical concerns that Stiles brings up when he tries to apologize. Sex is animalistic and satisfying, and Malia’s loyalty to Stiles is a result of someone finally giving in and not making her feel bad about wanting things. She doesn’t understand why they can’t continue, but Stiles can’t. He just can’t.

Lydia is different. Things with Lydia…they’re going to take a while to get back to normal. Stiles knows that he scared her. He knows that Lydia tolerated him for years because she saw him as harmless, as someone who would never act on his desires. When the Nogitsune overtook him, Stiles became the stalker he could have been at the height of his crush. Their friendship had still been new, tenuous. He doesn’t have years of reassuring friendship the way he does with Scott, so he does his best to keep to himself. To say hi, to keep things light and corny and ridiculous until she feels comfortable enough to laugh back, to know that he’s the same Stiles as before. Only not. 

Scott has been meeting more regularly with Deaton—which, finally—so Stiles has more time to himself. Initially he’d asked for it, just the quietude of being alone and getting used to being the only voice in his head. Now, though, the solitude makes him think, relive horrible moments, question whether the Nogitsune is completely gone. He still doesn’t sleep at night.

 

 

Stiles is sitting at his desk, staring blankly at tumblr, when Derek bursts into his room and throws something into his lap. He looks down and sees gardening gloves.

“Come on. Your dad asked me to help with the garden, and I need your help.”

“What garden?” Stiles asks to the empty room. He picks up the gloves wearily, wondering whether this is a ploy to get him to stop wallowing. Derek has been around, lurking on the edges, watching him. It makes Stiles a little crazy because he’s not sure if Derek is scared of him or pitying him. He wants to snark at him, get in his face and ask him why he’s not allowed to brood when Derek has done it for years, but he’s too tired to do it. It’s the fatigue that makes him move, ironically. Whatever he’s doing, the pondering and wondering and regretting—it’s not working. His sessions with Ms. Morell aren’t working. His baseball time with his dad isn’t working. If working in the garden with Derek will make him move forward, he’s all for it. If it doesn’t, well, at least they’ll have a garden again.

The garden is actually the vegetable garden in the back that used to be his mom’s pride and joy. It was the reason why Stiles never really learned how to shop for fresh vegetables for his father and why it was so hard to get back into healthy eating habits. He goes out back and sees Derek crouched in that overgrown patch of land, kneeling in the same way his mom would kneel for hours, coaxing out vegetables. That his father asked Derek to bring it back to life, to even let him into that area—Stiles is struck silent. He takes a moment, looks up into the sky in an attempt to settle his heart, and then slowly ambles forward, ready to make light of the situation.

Before he can say anything, Derek smacks a bucket into his hands. “Start with the rocks. I’ll pull the weeds, but you work the ground. Any rocks go into that bucket. When it gets full, dump it over there and then keep going.” Derek barely looks up to give directions, and Stiles rolls his eyes before pulling on the gloves and kneeling next to him. 

“How do you know I even have the time to be working out here? What if I had to study for a test or write an essay? You could at least be grateful that I’m out here helping you.”

Derek looks up at him and gives him a huge, disingenuous smile. “I’m so grateful you’re out here, Stiles. I really appreciate your help.”

“Okay, that’s creepy. Never mind. Go back to your stoic ways,” Stiles says with a wave as he drops his first rock into the bucket.

“You’ve got straight A’s, Stiles. I think you can take a little time out of your busy schedule to help me with the garden,” Derek says quietly. He works quickly, deftly pulling weeds out from the root and raking the ground to ready the soil for planting.

Stiles huffs in annoyance. “Are you stalking the school again? You learning how to hack into the system? How on Earth do you know my grades?”

Derek gives him a sly grin. “I have my ways.”

Stiles pushes his shoulder at that answer, but of course the fucker doesn’t lose his balance. Stiles is the one who ends up falling over and grinding dirt into his pants. Instead of getting back up, he merely sits and continues working out the various rocks that have somehow grown in the years of neglect. “So do you even know what you’re doing?” he asks, pitching a rock into the bucket.

“Yes,” Derek says tersely, though the small smile on his face tell Stiles he doesn’t mind the conversation. “We had a pretty massive garden at the house. I used to help my mom with it—spent hours there to get away from my siblings.” Derek’s face goes soft when he mentions his mom, though he doesn’t stop his work.

“Me, too,” Stiles says quietly. “Not the siblings part, obviously, but I get it.” He tosses another rock at the bucket but misses. “So my dad really wants you to revive this garden? What did he say? When did you even have this conversation?”

“I saw him at Home Depot. He was looking for stuff to keep the deer away, and we ended up talking about gardening. He asked me to come take a look.” Derek shrugs as he gathers his pile of weeds and dumps them into the lawn bag.

Stiles snorts. “That sounds so normal. Ran into my dad at Home Depot. Like we’re not living by an evil tree and being overrun by evil shit.” He chucks a rock at the bucket forcefully. “I used to think Beacon Hills was so boring, that I was just passing the time until I could leave and go to a bigger city where exciting things could happen.” Another rock, chipping the side of the bucket. “Now, what I wouldn’t give for a boring Saturday, playing video games with Scott and wondering if I’m going to have a conversation with Lydia on Monday.”

“You still play video games with Scott, and you have lots of conversations with Lydia,” Derek comments as he moves deeper into the garden, leaving a cleared path of rocky soil in his wake.

“So not the point, Derek,” Stiles retorts. He gets up to gather all the rocks that missed the bucket and then goes to dump them in the area Derek had pointed out earlier. “Junior year of high school—my only worry should be studying for my SATs and finding scholarships for college. Instead, I’m just trying to get a decent night’s sleep where I don’t wake up screaming because I’ve stabbed my best friend and enjoyed it.”

Derek says nothing in response, and Stiles actually appreciates it. He’s so used to hearing platitudes, and they’re never helpful; all they do is make him feel defensive, disheartened, tired. It’ll get better, but when? This too shall pass, but at what cost? He keeps working, trying to focus on getting every little rock that’s embedded in the stiff soil. There’s a sense of achievement when he looks at the ground he’s covered and runs his gloved fingers through the soil. It’s immediate gratification, knowing that just an hour ago the ground was rocky and full of weeds; now, it just looks rich and ready for planting. “Huh,” he says to himself, letting the dirt fall through his fingers. He looks up and sees Derek glance at him briefly before returning to his weeding. “Huh,” he repeats, and then he gets back to it.

\--

By the end of the week, the garden actually looks like a garden. There are rows of seedlings and other rows of dirt, hiding seeds that will hopefully sprout into something edible. Stiles pokes fun at the little signs that Derek picked up from a thrift store, but he certainly wouldn’t have known the difference between basil and pepper plants on his own. There are no vegetables yet, but Stiles feels rather proud to have been part of the whole process. Even his father is bursting with anticipation; Stiles sometimes catches him staring off into the garden and knows he’s seeing his mother there.

“How do you even remember how to do all this stuff? It’s been years and years, right?” Stiles asks as he waters row after row while Derek starts cleaning off his tools. “I’ve never seen you garden. You don’t even have a garden at the loft,” he adds.

Derek shrugs nonchalantly. “Like I said, when we were growing up, we had a pretty impressive vegetable garden. We all helped out. My mom and I used to spend hours weeding and watering and just enjoying being outside.” He wipes down the tools so that they don’t rust. “It’s hard to forget that kind of thing.”

Stiles takes the tools and places them back in the shed that has been cleaned out and restored to its former haphazardly organized glory. He clears his throat and fiddles with one of his gloves before saying quietly, “Maybe, now that this garden is back in business, we can go work on your mom’s garden. Bring that one back to life.” He shuts the shed door and heads back into the house, gently touching Derek on the shoulder as he passes him, his offer lingering in the smell of soil and sunshine.

 

It’s a Saturday, and Stiles wakes to the smell of damp grass, which means it must have rained last night. There’s nothing pressing to do at the garden here, so Derek isn’t around—the first Saturday in a while that Derek hasn’t roused Stiles with some outdoor task.

The thought makes him wonder why he’s not luxuriating in his bed with nothing to do, but at this point he’s awake. Stiles texts Scott to see what he’s up to, and they make plans to grab a bite to eat before Scott meets Deaton for another session.

Stiles heads to the local café and grabs a coffee, some pastries, and a hot chocolate for Scott. Seated at one of the tables by the large window, he waits. Scott rides up on his bike and gives Stiles one of his precious smiles through the glass—which only gets bigger when he takes a sip of the hot chocolate.

“No gardening this morning?” Scott asks as he bites into a powdered donut.

“Nah, not this morning. It rained a little last night, and I think the garden is basically established now?” He takes a sip of his coffee. “I thought I would hate it, to be honest, but I actually kind of love working in the garden. I don’t know. I guess it kind of makes me feel close to my mom.” He gives a half-smile as he plays with the cardboard sleeve of his cup.

“That’s awesome, man,” Scott says, giving a crooked, powdered smile. “I wish I could come by and help more, but Deaton’s gotten me on this strict schedule of meditating and training.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s cool. I’m glad he’s finally stepping up and helping out more. I mean, he still likes making those vague statements about power and responsibility, but at least he’s also giving you wolfy homework,” Stiles says with a grin before biting into a cherry Danish. “You think it’s helping? You feel better and more balanced with your alpha self?”

Scott sighs deeply and then shrugs. “I dunno. Sometimes I feel this surge of power, but then sometimes I feel even weaker. Every time I start to feel balanced, something goes weird. It’s like someone has a remote control on me and just keeps turning it up and down.” Scott frowns as he takes another bite. “That probably sounds stupid.” 

“No, dude. That’s a great simile. Good use of figurative language,” Stiles says, giving him a thumbs up before sighing heavily. “But that sucks. I wish we knew more about it.  I asked Derek once, but he just gave me a few vague stories that were more like legends than anything concrete—pretty much what Deaton told you. I bet Peter knows, but I don’t trust anything he says. I’m pretty sure he’d only tell us half truths anyway, just to keep us in his debt.” He shakes off the idea of Peter, as if it physically makes his skin crawl.

“The meditating has been pretty helpful, honestly. And today I’m supposed to meet up with Satomi, who’s been an alpha for ages. I think she and Deaton have some kind of past. She used to be from around here and actually knew Kira’s mother—which is totally weird—but ended up moving after the whole internment camp thing ended. I get wanting to be far away from that kind of experience,” Scott says as licks the last of the whipped cream off the top of his hot chocolate. “I guess he called in a favor and got her to come talk to me. Hopefully I’ll learn something. If nothing else, maybe she’ll teach me a few cool moves,” Scott says with a smirk. “I should’ve asked Derek about his back flips while he was still an alpha.”

Stiles snorts. “I don’t think those come with being an alpha. I think those come with being a show-off in a leather jacket,” he says dryly.

“What about you? Sleeping any better?” Scott asks as he chooses another donut—this time a jelly-filled one—and takes a big bite. “You actually look a little better,” he says with his mouth full.

Stiles shrugs. “I mean, a little? It’s funny, but I think being outside and gardening have actually helped. It’s not physically exhausting like playing lacrosse or anything, but I use different muscles. I guess it’s also just prolonged kneeling or small movements, so sometimes I wake up and feel really sore. But it’s a good feeling, you know? And I can look outside and see what I’ve been working on—it’s tangible. I like that.”

Nodding, Scott takes a long swallow of his hot chocolate and finishes chewing the last of his donut. “Glad to hear it. Anything that helps you sleep better.” He wipes his fingers on the napkin and then tries to get the powder off his face. “Okay, gotta get going. Kira and I were thinking of going to the movies later. Wanna join us?”

Stiles pretends to think about it before shaking his head. “That’s sweet, Scott. Really. I think I’m gonna pass on being that third wheel, though.”

“It’s just the movies,” Scott says as he rolls his eyes. “We’re going to see the new martial arts flick. See if Isaac or Boyd want to come. Or even Lydia. I’ll text you the time, okay?” He gets up and throws his trash away.

Stiles shrugs and attempts to make a basket with his coffee cup. He misses, but Scott picks it up and tosses it in for him on his way out the door. “Thanks, bud! You’re the best! And I’ll think about the movies,” Stiles calls after him. He waves as Scott puts on his helmet and zips away.

Long after Scott has left, Stiles lingers by the window, wondering if he feels like seeing a movie or even seeing other people. He and Scott have made a point of keeping tabs on each other, and he knows Scott and Isaac still hang out a lot, even though Isaac doesn’t live with him anymore. Boyd still lives at home but spends most of his time with Cora and so Derek by extension. Stiles doesn’t see Lydia as much, though she’s around. He doesn’t see Malia as much either, but part of that is purposeful. He’s still healing, and there are only a few people who understand what it means to have the guilt of other people’s blood on your hands, no matter how many times people tell him it’s not his fault.

With that thought, he heads over to Derek’s place—the one he’s rebuilding on the edge of the preserve when he was able to buy back the land from the county. There are contractors everywhere, tearing down the burnt carcass of a house and building something new, slightly west of where the old house was. He finds Derek towards the back, and he smiles when he sees him with gardening tools, marking out a space to revive what must’ve been quite an impressive garden.

Derek nods to him when Stiles approaches, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. Without a word, Stiles grabs a spare set of gloves and sets to work, attempting to pull at the weeds the way he’s seen Derek weed.

“No, you have to pull from the root,” Derek says, breaking the silence as he shows him a forked tool that gets deep into the soil. Sticking the tool in by the roots, he pries the roots up as he pulls from the base of the weed. He then yanks it out completely, knocking loose the dirt before throwing it to the side and then handing over the tool. “I’ll gather them up later, but make sure you get the root. Otherwise, they’ll just keep coming back.”

“A metaphor for my life,” Stiles remarks wryly, reaching for the next weed.

Derek just shrugs and looks at the expanse of overgrown land. “Gardening is good for the soul. Or some shit like that,” he says as he starts violently hacking away at the larger shrubs and wild trees that have sprouted.  

Stiles smiles at Derek’s lack of sentimentality, even though he knows there’s truth in his words. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. Our garden looks good, and I know it’s made my dad happy.” 

“It’s not finished. There’s a lot of upkeep related to gardening. It’s not just watering and harvesting,” Derek says as he wipes the sweat off his brow.

Stiles looks down at the weed in his hand. “I know. I just—still. Thanks.”

“You can thank me by helping me here, if you have the time,” Derek says frankly. He starts working on a different part of the garden, turning his full back to Stiles.

Stiles watches him for a little bit—the way his back is tense, the way his shoulders flex and ripple with even the slightest movement—before finally tearing his eyes away when he sees Derek start to turn towards him. Realizing Derek is waiting for a response, Stiles swallows and says, “Yeah, I think I can do that. But you have to tell me what to do in Mom’s garden. I would’ve just watered and waited for shit to grow.”

“Well, there is a lot of waiting, but there’s also watering, weeding, pruning—all of that needs to happen as well. I’ll stop by and check on it, make sure you know what needs to be done until you have a handle on it,” Derek says as he bends down to gather the clippings and throw them into a bag before attacking the next bush.

“Okay, that sounds good. So, uh, the house looks good so far,” Stiles says, his voice faltering when he notices the slight edge of hostility in Derek’s clipping. He pulls at another root as he wonders if he should stay to make conversation or just leave.

Derek sniffs and looks back towards the house. “It’s coming along. Every time I make a decision, Peter comes by and confuses the contractors, so it’s taking longer than it should. But eventually we’ll have a home again.” He turns his back on the house and returns to pruning.

Stiles senses that Derek’s extra broody mood is beyond his reach, so he stands up and dusts off his pants. “Yeah, soon. But I’m gonna head back home. Get some stuff done before hanging out tonight. Thanks, Derek. For everything.” He doesn’t wait for him to reply, but he feels Derek’s eyes on him all the way back to his car.

Later that night, Stiles ends up seeing the movie with Scott, Kira, Isaac, Boyd, and Cora. He actually texts Derek and tells him to join them, though he’s not surprised when Derek texts back and says no thanks. In an attempt to keep him in the loop anyway and also annoy him, Stiles texts him all the relevant details of the movie as well as everyone’s reactions. Maybe he’s being ridiculously annoying, but if he can get Derek to at least smirk and get rid of some of his earlier gloom, even just for a second, he’ll feel satisfied. When Derek finally texts him back with just a gif of cat staring and judging him, Stiles laughs out loud and smiles happily.

\--

The plants start growing much faster than he expects, so Stiles starts going out the back door when he leaves for school, just to check on the garden to see how it’s doing. He waters when it hasn’t rained and talks to the garden, cooing at the plants and chatting with them the way he remembers his mom used to do. It’s a nice, new distraction—something to research that is useful but not for avoiding impending doom. He finds himself looking into the best methods for encouraging growth, considers planting some flowers in the front yard, and even tries to find eco-friendly ways to get rid of those icky bugs that seem to love the pepper plants.

After spending hours at school pondering different gardening techniques, Stiles comes home to find Derek in the garden with a spray bottle, spritzing at the buggy plants.

“Yo, dude. Is that a pesticide? You’re not destroying the earth with that, are you? I’ve been looking into ways to fight bugs, and there are so many home remedies. What’s in this thing anyway?” Stiles asks as he grabs the bottle and sniffs it. He doesn’t smell any chemicals, though he’s raring to share all that he’s learned about the evils of pesticide and benefits of organic gardening. “Uh,” he stammers as he sees Derek’s patient look, the one where he’s barely hiding his exasperation while hoping Stiles isn’t as dumb as he seems.

Derek holds his hand out for the bottle. Once it’s back in his hands, he continues to spray. “It’s just water and dish soap. Then when the rain comes, it washes off the residue. No more bugs.” 

Stiles nods, slightly sheepish about the way he assumed the worst and immediately attacked Derek. He should have known Derek wouldn’t use chemicals on the garden. “Yeah, okay, well—gotta go study for my history exam.” He turns and walks into the house, embarrassed. Later, when he looks out the window, Derek is still there tending the garden, patiently clearing out weeds and watering. The sight of him brings a warmth to Stiles’s  chest.

\--

Soon, there are actual vegetables budding, and Stiles lets himself enjoy the excitement of seeing a pepper growing, a hard, green tomato pushing out. One morning, he sees a hint of red on the tomato plant and runs out immediately to check it out.

The distinct smell of the tomato plant hits him hard, sensory memory bringing back the image of his mom so clearly, squatting in the garden with her gloves, letting Stiles eat a fresh cherry tomato off the plant. It something he’s remembered multiple times since starting the garden, but the smell brings the memory back in exquisite detail. He plucks one little tomato and breathes in shakily. The tiny fruit bursts in his mouth, and he allows himself to cry a little at the taste. He grabs one more and decides that he’ll drop one off at the station on his way to school.

The tomatoes are just the beginning, and soon the garden is vibrant with fresh vegetables and herbs. The pack gets excited about all the fresh produce, especially since there is so much. It’s a simple thing, but Stiles pulls out more of his mom’s recipes and gets a small sense of satisfaction in knowing that her favorite meals are being made from her garden once again.

After a few days of heavy rain, Stiles looks out at the garden and sees how massively overrun with weeds it’s become. Even though Derek isn’t here to nag him, he dons his gloves and heads outside. The rain has softened the soil, so the weeding is deceptively easy, which means that Stiles spends hours crouching before he realizes how much time has gone by. By the end of the day, the jungle has been neatly tamed into rows of growing tomato plants, lettuce, vines of cucumbers, leafy pepper plants. There’s a satisfaction that grows within in him. That night, he falls into bed, exhausted, and sleeps dreamlessly through the night.

 

Stiles knows their pack is an odd one. Scott is some kind of true Alpha, but he’s still reluctant to take charge. Derek is kind of an omega, but he still comes around to meetings occasionally, offering advice and insight into werewolves that they wouldn’t otherwise have. Derek never acknowledges Scott as his alpha, and Scott never asks him about being a part of his pack.

Now that school is finally out, Scott trains more intensely with Deaton. He is this rarity of sorts, but he doesn’t feel any different. Purportedly a true alpha, Scott keeps telling Stiles that he doesn’t feel stronger, doesn’t have heightened senses. That sensation that Scott had described earlier about feeling his powers being drained, siphoned off somewhere, starts happening more frequently. Scott has no idea what that means, whether being a true alpha means learning to be more in touch with the wolf or that the power is less diluted. Stiles listens helplessly as Scott complains about his symptoms: he gets fuzzy headaches at random times, sleeps more, needs more food, has red eyes. Deaton works with Scott on strengthening his reflexes, fighting more efficiently so that his true alpha powers are just the icing on his werewolf cake. Honestly, Scott has no idea what he’s doing, and Deaton is only helping marginally.

Despite his Alpha problems, Kira and Scott start dating in earnest, though their relationship isn’t the intensely overwhelming relationship Scott had with Allison; rather, it’s a slow dance of regular dates, handholding, and laughter. Kira actually ends up bonding with Derek and spends many days training with him. Sometimes Malia joins them, and the three of them traipse through the woods, working on their sense of smell or their ability to move silently through the grass.

Despite Stiles’s objections, Malia still spends time with Peter. She assures him that she can handle him, that she can’t deny the pull of family she feels when she’s around him. Stiles gets that, in a way; he understands that Malia wants a family again and feels awkward around her dad, the one who raised her and loves her but still looks at her with fear and sorrow. She tells him that being with Peter is freeing, and she laughs when he worries. Malia will do what she wants, and Stiles doesn’t have the energy to curb her desires, not when he’s struggling enough on his own.

Stiles starts training with Chris, mostly with firearms since he’s more comfortable with them (and because of the incident with the bow that no one is allowed to mention; Chris still has a scar). He sometimes goes with his dad to the firing range, knowing that his dad feels safer keeping track of Stiles’s progress. He gets good with a pistol, though the sniper rifle becomes his specialty. His dad prefers it as well, since it means that Stiles isn’t directly in the fight. Stiles has tasted enough blood on his face, so he’s more than willing to contribute from afar.

Peter is still around, unfortunately. In the heat of summer, he skulks, sometimes showing up with Derek and sometimes not, an irritating gnat that won’t be silenced. Whenever Peter pops up, he makes cutting remarks about the special powers of a true alpha and how, if Scott hasn’t been able to tap into them, maybe he’s not so true at all. He constantly taunts Scott, makes him question the strength of his pack, dangles information before him about being a true Alpha. Stiles does his best to cut Peter down to size with his words, but that only marginally minimizes the buzzing irritation Scott feels whenever Peter is around; Scott has to focus intensely not to wolf out and force him to submit, which worries Stiles to no end. Scott doesn’t want to be that type of alpha, but the impulse is still there, thrumming through him.

Peter also manipulates Derek, tries to keep him separate from the others. He talks to Malia, tries to get her to see his side, sympathize with him. Lydia refuses to interact with him, which means that Peter smirks at her even more. They still occasionally use Derek’s loft as a headquarters of sorts while the construction on the Hale house continues, so Peter comes and goes as he pleases. Derek knows that Peter is a large obstacle between the Scott’s pack and remnants of his own, but he’s not equipped to face the reality of Peter, of how dangerous he really is. Even when Peter is at his worst, he still brings that air of familiarity that Derek isn’t quite ready to give up.

Though Isaac is now living with Scott permanently and has pledged loyalty to him, he still comes around the loft out of habit. Derek appreciates his company, but there’s still a distance between them that Scott has no problem filling. Cora and Boyd mostly cling to each other, though they are closer to Derek than Scott. Their shared time in the vault, something neither has ever discussed with Derek, make them comfortable in each other’s stillness. Boyd lives at home still, but Derek finds him with Cora at the loft more often than not. He plans on making one of the bedrooms at the renovated house Boyd’s, just in case he wants to move out after graduation. The three of them will sometimes spend the moon together, separate from Scott and his pack. Cora shows Boyd all the places their family used to go, the secret trails and hidden glens. Derek often watches quietly as they lope off into the bright night. He has no idea what he needs to do next, whether he should push Cora and Boyd to join Scott, whether he should finally figure out what Peter is doing, whether he should just leave for good. But on the full moon, when his senses are heightened and his body is taut with awareness, he is content to stifle these overwhelming questions and succumb to the tug of the moon.

 

The school year starts slowly, and Scott and Stiles attempt normalcy with cross country practice and studying and parties where they don’t get drunk. Surprisingly, senior year starts with no supernatural threat hanging over their heads. It’s so different from the previous year that Stiles sometimes wonders if he dreamed the whole thing up. Stiles eventually gets back to living life day to day, gets to the point where that void in his chest no longer burns with every breath. Of course, that’s when everything goes to shit.

\--

“Fucking wendigos, man,” Boyd mutters as he gets out of Stiles’s jeep to join in on the fight. They’d all been at school when they’d gotten the emergency text from Derek that he and Peter had been ambushed by a group of wendigos. Scott had torn out of the parking lot on his bike with Kira holding on, and Stiles, Isaac and Boyd had climbed into the jeep and followed them; they’d texted Malia and Chris to meet them there. When they arrive at the creepy alley by an abandoned apartment building, Derek and Peter are back to back, holding their own—but the wendigos look like they’re just playing with them.

Scott and the others throw themselves directly into the fighting, but Stiles has learned his lesson about being the breakable human. He takes a few shots with his smaller gun, slinging his rifle onto his back until he climbs the ladder and steps onto the first landing of the creaky fire escape. He has a better view from here, and he’s also better poised to cause damage without being damaged. He shoots one wendigo in the thigh, but it’s hard to get a good shot with so much movement; Stiles has pretty lethal bullets in this rifle, and he doesn’t want to take the chance of shooting one of his own.

The wendigos are getting progressively more violent when Stiles looks over and notices that Peter is acting shiftily. A moment ago he was poised to tear out the throat of one of the larger ones, but now he’s leading it closer to Scott. “Fuck,” Stiles mutters to himself as he aims at one lurking on the sides. He takes that one out easily and then yells, “Scott, watch out!” just as he sees the wendigo shift his focus onto Scott from Peter. Scott tries to adjust his fighting for the new threat, but he doesn’t realize that Peter is actually the threat. Stiles is watching carefully, and he finally realizes what is happening, that Peter is actually going to kill Scott himself. “It’s Peter! Scott, watch out for Peter!” He jumps when he sees Peter abruptly turn and stare at him. He reloads his rifle, but suddenly Peter is there in his face, yanking the gun out of his hands and looming over him.

“Always too observant for your own good, Stiles,” Peter growls, obviously enjoying the way Stiles’s heart is beating rapidly in fear as he draw nearer.

Stiles knows that the wendigos are closing in on Scott and the others, knows that he can’t rely on them to come save him. He tries to reach into his pocket for the wolfsbane spray he keeps for emergencies, but Peter grabs him by his hoodie and throws him off the fire escape. He braces his body for impact, but somehow Derek is there, partially breaking his fall, pushing him aside as Peter throws himself onto the ground, his claws and fangs out for blood. Stiles’s wrist might be broken from the fall—pain is shooting up his arm—but he looks around frantically for a gun he can use, anything to keep him from being vulnerable again. He looks over to Scott, who is back to back with Kira, attempting to fight off the wendigos that are circling in. Boyd is throwing off one and clawing at another; Isaac is on the ground, shaking his head in an attempt to regain his wits after being viciously tossed. Malia is nowhere to be seen.

He can hear Peter’s insults and sees Derek fly through the air and hit the wall. He finally reaches his rifle and grabs it, only to realize he can’t handle it properly with his injured wrist. Stiles attempts to hold it with his elbow, but Peter’s there again, yanking it out of his hands and using it to choke him against the wall.

“If only you’d accepted the bite the first time I offered it,” Peter says menacingly, his face breathing too closely for comfort. “Once I kill you, Scott will be heartbroken, and his pain will just feed my power even mor---“

His speech is cut off when Derek slices the back of his neck with his claws. Peter stumbles but doesn’t fall. Derek throws him to the ground, straddles his torso to keep him from escaping, and punches him with a sickening crack. He roars in his face, the pain of betrayal clear in the howl. Peter merely laughs weakly, assuming that Derek won’t be willing to kill him and waits for him to get up so he can flee once again. But this time is different; this time Derek isn’t moving away with disgust and hiding from Peter’s machinations. This time, Derek twists Peter’s neck with a clean snap, and the red light in Peter’s eyes blinks out.

At the same time, Chris finally arrives, shooting with deadly precision at the remaining wendigos, who seem to lose strength the instant Peter dies. In moments, the alley is a backdrop of dead bodies with the survivors barely standing. Chris comes over to Stiles and drops a hand on his shoulder before taking a look at the wrist Stiles is cradling. Scott walks over to Derek, who is frozen over Peter’s body, his hands shaking and his chest heaving. Scott doesn’t say anything, just stares at Peter’s still body before turning and walking out of the alley. Kira comes to Derek and attempts to pull him up, the concern written all over her face, but he won’t be moved. Blinking back tears, she gives his arm a squeeze and then slowly trudges after Scott.

Chris tells Stiles that he’ll take him to the hospital, but Stiles tells him to give him a moment. He walks over to Derek, comes up behind him, gets on his knees and rests his chin on his shoulder. He stays there for a moment before saying quietly, “Thank you. Thank you for saving me.” He rubs his chin into Derek’s neck briefly before getting up and walking away. He nods to Boyd, who is helping Isaac get to his feet. The two of them limp their way towards Derek, and Stiles knows they’ll make sure Derek is okay. When he looks back one last time, Derek is still there, flanked by his two betas, but his hands are no longer frozen in horror.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

“What, honey? What’s wrong?” Melissa slides into the chair next to Scott’s at the kitchen table. She slides a mug of hot chocolate and waits.

Scott sits up a little but doesn’t say anything. He opens his mouth, but then closes it, slumping back into his chair. “I guess I just don’t know what to do.”

“About what?” Melissa asks gently.

“About Derek. I just—did he have to kill him?” Scott looks at his mom, his brows furrowed with concern. “I know Peter did bad things. I know that. But did it have to end in his death? Doesn’t that make Derek a killer? Do I want to be in a pack with a killer?”

Melissa takes a deep breath and puts her hand over Scott’s. “Okay. I see what you’re saying. But let me ask you something. Do you think your dad’s a killer?”

“What? No,” Scott says as he continues to frown. “I know we don’t have the best relationship, but I don’t think he’s a killer.”

Melissa nods, continuing to caress Scott’s hand. “What about the sheriff? Is Stiles’s dad a killer?”

Scott’s head jerks up, a look of disbelief on his face. “Of course not. Why would you even ask that? They’re not like Peter at all, Mom.”

“I’m not comparing them to Peter. I’m comparing them to Derek.” She sits up straighter and looks him in the eye. “Derek killed Peter, but he did it to save Stiles’s life, to save yours as well. Both your dad and John have killed people in the line of duty. They’ve had to shoot people, and sometimes those people died. They did it to save others, to take care of their own. If you don’t see them as killers, then you shouldn’t see Derek that way either. Peter? Peter is a killer.” Melissa’s voice turns hard as she continues. “He is a manipulative, conniving murderer who tried to hurt you, to hurt Stiles, to hurt Derek. If Derek hadn’t killed him, Peter would’ve killed someone you loved, possibly you as well. And if he’d gotten away, he would’ve just come back to try again. Peter was not a well man, and I am not ashamed to say that I am glad he is dead.” Melissa turns away for a moment, her heart beating quickly and her hands almost shaking. She takes a deep breath before turning back to look at her son. “Scott, life is never as black and white as you’ve wanted it to be. And your life, in particular, is always going to have an entire rainbow of colors. You have enough to think about without questioning someone like Derek.”

Scott exhales slowly and then nods. Then he leans forward to rest his head on his arms. “I guess I never really thought of it like that.”

He rubs his eyes, and Melissa’s heart clenches at how young he looks. She doesn’t say anything in response, knowing he needs time to process all his thoughts.

Scott sighs almost petulantly, his look of confusion one Melissa knows well. “But now Derek’s an alpha. I don’t really understand what Peter did to me, what it means to be a true alpha, but what does that mean about the pack?

Melissa leans forward as well, propping her head on her fist. “I see what you mean. Have you talked to Derek about it? About what he thinks about the whole thing? I’m sure he wasn’t thinking about his life as an alpha when he took down Peter.” Melissa still shudders when she thinks about how close Peter was to killing Stiles. Sometimes she wishes she could have been there, wielding an axe or aiming a gun or something, anything that would make her feel capable of protecting her son and his friends. Melissa always just sees the aftermath of a fight that she isn’t a part of, the bloody wounds and broken bones that she is able to tend but not able to prevent.

“I talked to Derek a little bit. I think he wants to help. I mean, we were starting to work together before. And now, he’s trying to help, I think. But I don’t know,” Scott says, his voice quiet and lost.

“You know, Derek’s not the same person he used to be. He used to be such a loner, so determined to prove that he could do it on his own. He didn’t want to trust anyone, didn’t want anyone’s help. He’s different now, and I think part of that is because of you.”

Scott smiles bashfully. “Really? You think so?”

“I do,” she says, smoothing her hand over his hair. “You are so quick to trust. You want to help everyone, and you are always willing to ask someone for help, like Stiles. Kira. You want everyone involved. That’s why, in a lot of ways, you and Derek are really good for each other. But honey, let me ask you an honest question.”

Scott turns to look at his mom, bracing himself for the worst.

“You’re a werewolf. That’s not gonna change. But if you could, would you give up being an alpha? If you could have chosen, would you have chosen to be an alpha?”

Scott turns away and presses his forehead into the table. “I don’t know, Mom. I don’t even know what it means to be an alpha. I never know what to do. I’m always asking Stiles for help, or Deaton, or you, or Kira. Stiles is the one with the plans. Deaton is the one with the information. What do I have? I don’t even understand this true alpha thing. I mean, I want everyone to feel like they belong to the pack. I want us to be a team, but I don’t know if I want to be captain. Even for lacrosse, Stiles is the one with all the strategies and game plans. I just nod and make sure the ball goes into the net.”

Melissa nods and then pulls him in for a hug. She rests her chin on his shoulder and rubs his arms. “You know, Derek is always going to know more than you about being a werewolf.” At her words, Scott immediately starts to pull away, but she pushes him back to the table and wraps her arms around him. “He is, sweetie, because he’s been one his whole life. Things are going to come naturally to him that are still strange to you. And that’s okay—it’s not a competition. And if Derek wants to help you, Scott, _let him help you_. Let Derek be the adult. You be a teenager. And you two can work together, with Stiles and the others. Your best qualities and his best qualities. You know that Stiles always brings about the best in you, and I think he does the same for Derek. You all in one pack—that might be the best thing that’s happened to Beacon Hills in a long time.”

Scott buries himself in his mom’s embrace, breathing in her warm scent of love and home and safety. “But does that mean he’s my alpha?”

Melissa sighs and then moves back to look at Scott. “Honey, does that really matter? Would that be so hard, to have Derek as your alpha? Do you really want him to be your beta, or whatever it’s called? Didn’t he say that it’s all fluid anyway?”

“Yeah, the triskelion thing. I guess that’s what it means,” Scott says, his eyes still downcast.

“Stop worrying about the labels and all that. What’s important is you’re working together, that you’re supporting each other. Stay focused on what’s important—you’re alive, you’re with your loved ones, and you’re moving forward.” She cups his face with her hands, marveling at the way her young, teenaged son has seen so much blood in the past few years. “Keep that crooked smile on your face, and stay focused on what is important. Don’t get bogged down by the details. Okay?”

Scott gives her that crooked smile and feels himself start release the tension that’s been in his shoulders since he heard Peter’s heart stop beating. “Yeah, I think I can do that. I will. I love you, Mom.” He gathers her up into a hug and allows himself be a kid in her arms. “You’re the best.”

Melissa hugs him hard. “I love you, too, Scott. Always.”

 

Their hodgepodge pack starts to feel more cohesive after that. Stiles isn’t sure of the details. All he knows is that, during the last full moon, Scott and Derek broke away from the pack and went off on some kind of alpha run. When they came back, they seemed more at ease with each other, like they’d hammered out some kind of co-alpha deal while munching on deer. Scott is the one who checks up on everyone, passes around smiles like they’re drugs, asks for everyone’s opinion. Derek takes the lead on their pack meetings, their training, their wolf sides, but he’s learning to let people in, just like Scott is learning to embrace his werewolf.

The Hale home is now completely renovated, and it becomes the den for the Brady Bunch pack of werewolves. Derek takes pride in making the house a home, filling it with carefully chosen furniture—sofas that are sturdy but attractive, bookshelves upon bookshelves in the study, an immense dining room table that seats plenty without feeling crowded. Derek fills the walls with photographs, pulling out items that somehow survived the fire and were too painful to look at before. Now, when he sees things that used to adorn the old home next to new photos and trinkets the pack has been leaving around the house, he feels content, knowing that there’s both old and new in his life.

The garden at Stiles’s house is growing, filling the backyard with peppers and tomatoes and herbs. But the garden at Derek’s? It’s thriving so much that Derek is considering selling his produce at the local farmer’s market. Though he still does most of the work, some of the pack members start taking over bits and pieces of the garden.

Boyd learns when it’s time to harvest, and he brings in baskets and baskets of ripe tomatoes, perfect zucchini and eggplant, peppers of every color. He sorts the herbs and finds a place for everything in the pantry and fridge. He’s also the one who cooks the most, next to Derek. They find peace in the kitchen, and it’s become a pattern that they try out new recipes on each other and cook for the pack together. They don’t talk much while cooking, but they still communicate constantly. It’s one of Derek’s favorite times of the week.

Cora focuses on the orchard, the one Derek built as a memorial to his family. It’s filled with trees, one for each member who died in the fire, as well as Laura _and_ Peter, and encircled by a short stone wall. There are a smattering of rose bushes as well, filling the air with the scent of memories.

Isaac likes pruning back the bushes, and he’s also in charge of tending to the bushes in the front of the house. Sometimes he gets ambitious and makes little faces in the bushes or decides that this week all the bushes will be square instead of round. One week Derek comes home and sees that the bushes now spell out “Grumpy Cat.” He threatens to throw away all the pruning tools, but it’s clearly an empty threat as Derek fights the laughter while he says it. Isaac shows him how he did it, and they makes plans for other personalized messages for the pack and end up on the floor laughing again.

 

Before they know it, senior year is over. They’re now graduates, and the summer before college is filled with languor, the best kind. They’re spending all their time together, strengthening the bonds before they go off on their separate ways. Separate is probably a misnomer—they’ll all be within 2 hours driving, with Lydia being the farthest, but they won’t be down the street from each other, sneaking into each other’s houses and crawling through windows. The summer is filled with pack meetings that turn into movie nights, training sessions that turn into splash wars at the lake, and pack dinners that turn into late nights of drinking games.

There isn’t anything out of the ordinary in how Stiles lingers after one pack meeting, sitting on the couch and watching _Inception_ for the millionth time. Everyone else has left, going on dates or sleeping off last night’s drinking. Derek has become accustomed to having people come and go, his home a sort of clubhouse for both fun times and moments of solitude. Scott knows he can come there to study or meditate without distraction. Kira knows she can come and veg out or do yoga when she’s fighting with her mom. Stiles knows he can come and eat curly fries without the guilt of indulging in front of his dad. Derek doesn’t have much to hide, so it’s not like he resents the random intrusions. In fact, he enjoys the company and the way everyone feels so at ease in his home. It’s familiar, tripping over people and keeping five kinds of cereal and three kinds of milk and arguing over the remote. It’s the closest thing to family he’s had in a long time.

What is out of the ordinary is how quiet Stiles is, how still. Normally he would be talking to the screen, texting, playing Candy Crush, snacking on chips—all these things, all simultaneously. He is a bundle of frenetic energy, unwittingly drawing attention to himself with his constant movement. Right now, though, Stiles is just gnawing on his thumbnail, his forehead creased in thought as he stares blankly at the television.

Derek plops on the couch next to Stiles and nudges him with his shoulder. “What’s up?” he asks, his voice light in case Stiles is just looking for a place to crash.

Stiles doesn’t respond right away, just keeps biting his nail and frowning.

“Hey,” Derek says, gently pulling the hand away from Stiles’s mouth and holding it. “What’s going on?”

Stiles stares down at their joined hands and then slightly adjusts his fingers so that they slot perfectly into Derek’s. “We’re friends, right?” he says softly, as his other hand starts scratching lightly at a worn spot on his jeans.

Derek gives his hand a squeeze. “Of course.” He doesn’t say more, wanting to let Stiles take the lead on the conversation.

Stiles nods. “Friends. And friends—I mean, friends can hold hands, right?”

“Yeah, Stiles. Friends can hold hands.” Derek rubs his thumb over Stiles’s thumb, hoping to send out waves of reassurance, not sure where this conversation is coming from.

“Can friends kiss?”

Derek stills his thumb and looks up with wide eyes. “What kind of kiss are we talking about?” Derek says lightly, still unsure of Stiles’s point.

Stiles sighs heavily and lets go of Derek’s hand to run his fingers through his hair. “The kind of kiss I’ve never had? With another guy?” Stiles glances over at Derek and then grits his teeth. “I just didn’t know that you’d been with guys.”

“Ah, I see,” Derek says, nodding his head thoughtfully.

Stiles watches him, wondering what he’s thinking. Last night, when they had played Never Have I Ever, he hadn’t really thought he’d learn anything new. The game was usually just an excuse to get drunk and reminisce over all the stupid shit they’d done. When Stiles had said, “Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex,” he’d just been trying to get Lydia and Cora to fess up, maybe find out if Isaac and Scott had finally made out, just to see. When he saw Derek shamelessly throw back a shot, he almost fell out of his seat. Derek hadn’t responded to their teasing or shocked expressions, just cocked his eyebrow and continued the game.

Stiles can’t stop thinking about it, and that’s why he’s here now, possibly doing something incredibly stupid.

“You said we’re friends, and friends help each other out, right?” Stiles says, speaking quickly as if he’s either afraid he’ll lose confidence or worried that Derek will throw him out.

“Making out with me is helping out a friend? What’s going on in that head of yours, Stiles?” Derek asks carefully, his voice free of judgment as he nudges him with his knee.

Stiles shrugs and looks down, worrying the frayed edges of his sleeves. He’s about to bite his nail again when Derek takes his hand and holds it in his lap. Stiles swallows and says, “I guess I’m just curious.” He shakes his head and then says more seriously, “I mean, not just curious. I guess I want to know if I’m attracted to men as much as women. Like, how did you know you were attracted to men? Or are you, even? Was that just a thing that happened when you were drunk or something?”

Derek settles into the couch so that Stiles doesn’t have to look at him as they talk, hoping it’ll make him feel less nervous about opening up.  He says, “No, it wasn’t. The first time was at a party. Someone came up to me, we flirted, we ended up making out. That was the first time, but not the last.” He keeps his voice steady, wanting Stiles to know that he’s not being flippant about his experiences and that whatever Stiles is feeling is legitimate and real. “I’ve been with both men and women. I’m attracted to both,” he says simply. “What makes you think you’re attracted to men?”

Stiles throws his head back and exhales loudly. “So, I was watching porn. No, don’t laugh! I’m serious! I was watching gay porn, and I just got really turned on, and I wasn’t sure if that meant I was attracted to men or just turned on by porn.” He shrugs in a self-deprecating manner before adding, “Because Lydia watches gay porn, and she thinks it’s hot but she’s not inserting herself into the situation. So I might just be getting turned on by all the moaning and sexy times.”

Derek nods understandingly. “Well, when you watch the porn, do you imagine being touched as well? Or do you just get swept up in the cinematography?”

Stiles knocks into Derek’s shoulder in reply, but he doesn’t move back when he ends pressed against him from shoulder to thigh. “I don’t really know what I think about when I watch porn. I’m not analyzing my reactions. I’m just watching and getting off. That’s why I wanted to ask you. You know, as a friend.”

“Because—“

“Because I want to know what it feels like to kiss someone with scruff. I want to know if it feels different, if kissing a guy is like kissing a girl, if it’s something I’d even be into,” Stiles says quietly. He plays with his chin, rubbing his thumb against the grain of his stubble. “I know college is the time to experiment, but I didn’t want to figure that out when I got there, you know? It’s hard, trusting people. I didn’t want to go to a party, start to hook up with someone only to push them away. I guess…I just feel like I should know these things about myself before I leave.”

Derek hums in agreement and waits for him to continue. He slides his hand into Stiles’s again, and it’s such a natural movement, that Stiles can’t help but relax into it, even as he’s voicing thoughts he’s only recently come to terms with.

Stiles swallows thickly and then says, “The thing is—Malia was the last person I was with, and that was kinda the nogitsune, not me. I mean, it was me but it wasn’t. It--” He shakes his head and tries to blink away the bad memories. “I was just thinking maybe I should try to work through some of that stuff with someone I trust.” Stiles gives Derek a self-conscious half-smile before dropping his eyes again.

Derek squeezes his hand. “Someone you trust who happens to have scruff,” he says wryly.

Stiles huffs quietly. “You don’t have to. But I thought I’d ask. If nothing else, I think it’s good to talk about it.”

“So, are you going to hold my bruised ego when you kiss me and then decide you aren’t interested in men?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, the moment of seriousness over for him. “Please, if that happens I will bring plenty of people ready and willing to soothe your bruised ego.”

Derek smiles at the way Stiles seems comfortable again, and decides to keep teasing him, goading him into action. “I’m just saying. You’re using me as an experiment for your sexual awakening. You should really have a full plan. What’s your hypothesis? How are you going to collect data? What about—“

Stiles places his hand on the back of Derek’s neck, pulls him forward, and kisses him. He can feel Derek smiling, and that makes all his nerves dissipate. He’s about to say something when Derek shifts, tilts his head slightly, nips at his lower lip. The nerves slowly give way to arousal, and the slight scratch of beard against his cheek makes his skin burn with pleasure. Their tongues slide together, and Stiles starts leaning back, wanting to feel the weight of Derek’s body on top of his own. He feels the taut muscles of Derek’s back under his fingers, and he tries to stifle his moan when Derek kisses his way under his jaw and to his neck. Each movement slides Derek’s scruff against his skin, and it sends fresh waves of sensation each time. When they eventually pull apart, Stiles is panting loudly, his hands still buried in Derek’s hair.

“Yeah, okay, I think I definitely know my answer,” Stiles says, his voice shaky with desire.

\--

Later that night, after Stiles is long gone and Derek is lying in bed, he tries not to remember the details of that moment, the way Stiles sounded and felt beneath him. He’s not successful.

\--

They don’t talk about it, really. Stiles was up front about the reasons behind approaching Derek, and Derek does his best to put Stiles at ease and not make him embarrassed about his personal revelations. Since that evening, Stiles has experimented a little on his own, and Derek has heard about the others joining Stiles at The Jungle and has even participated in the Marry, Shag Murder games that include any and all people.

So he’s a little surprised when, after a different pack meeting, Stiles lingers in a way that is familiar.

“What, you need more data?” Derek asks after putting away the rest of the dishes. “I thought The Jungle was your lab for the summer.” He sits down on the couch next to Stiles and gives him a fond smile even as he teases him.

Stiles simple throws his legs into Derek’s lap and sighs dramatically. “I’ve definitely gotten more data about kissing. But I think I need to expand the scope of my experiments.”

Throwing off Stiles’s legs with an eye roll, Derek says, “I think this metaphor has reached its limits. Did something happen?” He turns to face Stiles, who is covering his face with his arms.

After a few moments, Stiles sits up and rubs his face. “I mean, it’s not what happened but more what didn’t happen.” He glances at Derek before continuing. “At The Jungle this past weekend, I was dancing with this guy, and we started making out.”

Derek makes a noise of approval. “That’s good. And you felt comfortable? He wasn’t pressuring you or anything?”

Shaking his head, Stiles quickly says, “No, no. It was great. He was hot, and I was into it. All good things. But I could tell he was interested in more, would’ve been down for more. Heh, down for more.” He laughs weakly at his own joke.

“So what’s the problem? Did you want more? You don’t have to want more, you know. Kissing is great. Not everyone is the type to give blow jobs in the bathroom,” Derek says, choosing to ignore Stiles’s attempts at humor.

“Funny you should mention blow jobs,” Stiles begins, his eyes darting his way as he licks his lips.

Derek huffs in disbelief and says, “Seriously? What, now friends can give each other blow jobs?”

“I mean, if you’re offering, I’m accepting.”

Derek exhales loudly and stands up just to stop thinking about Stiles’s suggestion. They’re friends, really good friends at this point, and Derek is wary of playing this kind of game with friendship. Kissing is one thing, but blow jobs is an entirely different level of intimacy. He turns to lean against the arm chair and meets Stiles’s eyes. “Talk to me, Stiles.”

After fiddling with his fingers in nervousness, Stiles abruptly claps them on his thighs, sits back in the couch, and faces Derek. “Okay, here’s the thing. The whole kissing thing with you, it really helped. I mean, I know that sounds weird, but it made me so much more comfortable with myself and made it easier to experiment a little.” Stiles holds his hands out helplessly. “I just thought since it worked so well with the kissing, it’d be the same with blow jobs.”

Derek closes his eyes briefly in frustration before answering. “Stiles, there’s a world of a difference between kissing and blow jobs.”

“I know. I know! In theory, I know. But…”

There’s something about Stiles’s flippant attitude that irritates Derek. Without thinking, he throws out, “But what? You just figured I’d be willing to give you a blow job because hey, sex doesn’t mean anything to Derek. If he’s willing to sleep with murdering psychopaths, then why not me?”

Instead of deflating the way Derek expects, Stiles angrily retorts, “Don’t I fall into that category as well?”

They both stare at each other, their glares filling the room with unspoken accusations and self-pity. Finally, Derek breaks eye contact and slowly lets out a breath. He gets up and sits right next to Stiles, throwing his arm around him and drawing him close. It’s a few moments before Stiles allows himself to cool down.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says softly.

“No, it’s my fault,” Stiles says tiredly as he pulls back a little. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s not fair to you, and I’m just making excuses for myself.”

Sighing, Derek tilts his head back on the couch and absently stares at the ceiling. “No, I get what you’re saying. And it’s true that sex isn’t this emotionally weighty act for me. I’m probably the perfect person to ask for this kind of thing.”

Stiles groans and jabs him a little with his elbow. “No, man, no. Don’t do this to yourself. That’s not why I asked you at all.”

“Why did you ask me?” Derek turns his head to look at Stiles. “The kissing I get. But why this?”

 Shrugging, Stiles says, “I honestly can’t say. I’m sure I could come up with reasons if I thought about it longer. It was mostly that the kissing thing went so well, I thought it would be nice to do the same thing with blow jobs.”

Derek snorts. “God, look at the two of us.”

Sighing dramatically, Stiles says, “I know, right? We might as well give each other blow jobs.”

The comment surprises a laugh out of Derek, even as he says, “You’re ridiculous. Glad to see you’re not giving up on your initial plan.”

“What’s it gonna hurt? Maybe my jaw? But I don’t know because I’ve never done it, and maybe that’s just a porn thing. Who knows? Maybe you know, possibly because you’ve given blow jobs. But I haven’t. So I’m just hypothesizing.”

Derek presses his hand over Stiles’s mouth but can’t help grinning when he feels the wide smile beneath his fingers. Unable to hide his fondness, he slides his palm over to Stiles’s cheek. Derek is suddenly startled when Stiles flicks out his tongue and then pulls Derek’s thumb into his mouth, sucking lazily. There’s a bit of a dare in the way Stiles looks Derek in the eye, the way his tongue curls around the pad of his thumb and hints at what else it could do. He doesn’t want to give in, still feels this is a bad idea, but Derek can feel his eyes flutter closed in an attempt to savor the sensation. After a moment, a line is crossed, and Derek tugs his thumb back, only to replace it with his own tongue.

The kiss quickly becomes filthy, and Derek doesn’t hold back his desire to press Stiles into the couch and make him moan. He shifts so that he’s more in front of Stiles than next to him, and then Derek carefully pulls back to look at Stiles. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, possibly that look Stiles gets when he’s solving a problem, but he’s not fully prepared to see Stiles’s swollen lips and dazed eyes blinking sensuously at him.

“That was playing dirty,” Derek says right before he kisses Stiles’s mouth again, tenderly but thoroughly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Also, I’m still curious about what that scruff might feel like on my thighs,” Stiles says breathlessly when they break for air. Biting his lip as he feels Derek move from his lips to his jaw line, Stiles gasps when he feels Derek nip at his ear lobe. He can feel his dick jumping against the zipper of his jeans, and he thrusts up into Derek’s body as he moves his hands to palm Derek’s ass.

Derek laughs again, burying his face in the crook of Stiles’s neck.

“I’m just saying. The kissing was good. I think I have enough data to make some strong conclusions, but if there’s another opportunity to field test—“ He interrupts himself with a groan when he feels Derek move down to bite his nipple through his shirt. Stiles can feel his heart beat faster in anticipation, as Derek starts kissing down his body. With his legs wrapped around Derek to keep him close, Stiles has never felt so hard. Though he wants to throw back his head and moan, he doesn’t want to close his eyes; he wants to see every single moment. Stiles watches Derek deftly undo his jeans and pulls down his zipper. He knows he’s holding his breath, but Stiles still can’t believe that Derek is here, in between his legs, about to put his mouth on his dick.

Aware of how tense Stiles is, Derek glances up right before he pulls down Stiles’s underwear. That look, those gorgeous eyes peeking through wispy lashes, punches a whimper through Stiles.

“Maybe we should slow down,” Derek says abruptly, removing his hands from Stiles’s hips and sitting back a little. “Or maybe stop. I mean, I wasn’t really going to do this, despite your plan.”

Stiles blinks, unsure if he’s waking up from a dream before he even gets to the good stuff. “What?”

Derek licks his lips and swallows. “I sort of got carried away. But this is…I still don’t think you need to ‘practice’ with blow jobs. It’s not like kissing. I don’t know if we should keep—”

“Shut up,” Stiles says immediately, slapping a hand over Derek’ mouth. He slides his hand off his mouth and pulls Derek forward again. “Derek,” he says quietly, his lips moving against Derek’s. “Derek,” he murmurs as he kisses him. “Derek,” he repeats, kissing him again, more thoroughly, his tongue licking into his mouth. “Derek,” he says again, smiling when he hears Derek huff in response. “Shut up and blow me.”

Derek rolls his eyes and shoves Stiles’s face away, even though Stiles just comes back and kisses him again, half off the couch in an attempt to press their bodies together. Derek smothers a laugh and then stands up. He reaches his hand out to Stiles, who automatically takes it and stands up to wrap his arms around Derek’s neck. They kiss for a while again, Stiles’s pants falling down around his ankles, the thin fabric of his briefs making it very clear how much he’s enjoying the kissing. “Okay,” Derek says when they finally pause for air. “We should move to my bed before things get messy.” He helps Stiles step out of his pants before pulling him towards the bedroom.

Derek strips as he moves as well, just wanting to get his shirt off to feel Stiles’s bare skin against his own. He pushes Stiles onto the bed and then climbs on top of him. They kiss more, and Stiles is utterly flustered by the time Derek makes his way down his body once more.

Stiles’s dick is pressed against his boxer briefs, and the wet spot in the front is slowly growing. Derek gives him a soft smile and then rubs his face against his cock through the fabric. He sucks at it a little, enjoying the choked noises Stiles is making in response. When he finally peels off the last layer of clothing, Derek languidly scrapes his scruff against the inside of Stiles’s thighs. “Is this enough for your curiosity?” Derek murmurs in between kisses and licks.

Stiles only moans incoherently in response. Gripping the sheets, he reminds himself to breathe.

 

Derek inhales deeply and take in Stiles’s heady scent before finally taking him in his mouth. He lets his tongue slide into the groove of his head and uses his hands to glide over his thighs and hips and balls.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Derek,” Stiles gasps as he watches his cock disappear into Derek’s mouth. He bites down on his lip and then pulls his hand to his mouth to bite down on the fleshy part of his palm, just to give his tongue something to touch. “Oh, God,” he says, his voice muffled by his hand.

Derek looks up as he licks from the base of his dick to the head. “You want something else in your mouth?” he asks with a husky voice. He smirks when he sees Stiles’s eyes bulge with anticipation. With one final suck, Derek pulls off and then stands. His hands start undoing his pants, and Derek can’t help but get turned on even more by the way Stiles’s eyes greedily take in his movements. Relishing the way Stiles’s breath keeps hitching, he pulls down his underwear and grips his cock, hard and glistening with pre-come.

“You, I, your—” Stiles stutters as he starts to sit up.

“Here,” Derek says as he reaches the bed and kisses him before rolling onto his back. “I think this way might be more comfortable.” He moves Stiles so that they’re opposite, with Stiles above him. “That way if you want to, you can move back, take a break,” Derek says, his hands gently caressing Stiles’s thighs above him.

“Okay,” Stiles says quietly, staring at Derek’s dick in front of him. “You’ll tell me if it doesn’t feel good? Or if it does?” he asks as he moves closer. Derek can feel his breath tickling at him, and it takes so much effort not to push up against Stiles’s face, right into that luscious mouth.

“I will, though I’m pretty sure everything you do will—fuck!” Derek bites out when he feels Stiles lick at the head of his cock, tensing when Stiles does it again before wrapping his lips around it. Derek takes a moment to adjust to the overwhelming sensation before leaning forward and lapping at Stiles’s balls. He feels Stiles moan, and the vibration punches a moan out of him. It’s like a circle of pleasure, and Derek is doing his best to keep sucking Stiles and not be distracted by the gorgeous feeling of Stiles’s mouth on him. He starts using his hand to slide with his mouth, up and down his cock. He continues that way for a while, alternating between little licks and taking him in completely. Derek can both hear and feel Stiles starting to come apart, so he moves his hand, slick with spit, and slides it up against Stiles’s hole. That pushes him over the edge, and Derek swallows slowly, enjoying the way it pulses in his mouth.

Stiles rests his face against Derek’s thigh, panting heavily as he comes down from his orgasm. Derek can feel each hot breath against his cock, and he moves his hand down to finish himself off.

“No, no, let me,” Stiles says as he lifts his head drowsily.

“It’s okay, Stiles. Enjoy the afterglow,” Derek says fondly even as he grips his cock.

Stiles doesn’t respond but merely laps at the head that peeks out of Derek’s fist. He gets it all wet again and then wraps his lips around his cock. Gradually, Stiles moves Derek’s hand out of the way and starts bobbing, his mouth tight around him. It’s sloppy and wet and takes approximately two minutes to get Derek on the edge of orgasm.

“Stiles,” Derek says breathlessly, warning him to pull off. Weakly, he tries to move Stiles’s head, but Stiles continues to slide his tongue into the groove of his head and suck hard. He comes with a shout, his body jackknifing while Stiles swallows greedily. Stiles pulls off too soon and gets the last spurt of come on his cheek, which only makes him snicker drunkenly.

“Sorry,” Derek says, brushing his thumb through the splatter on his cheek as he falls back onto the bed.

Stiles grabs his thumb and licks it off before falling back next to him. “Nah, it’s the stuff of porn dreams. Always wanted to know what it would feel like,” he says as he stretches out his jaw and sidles up to Derek’s too-warm body. “Guess that was good enough?”

Derek snorts as he scratches his stomach. “Yeah, totally good enough. Practice makes perfect and all, though,” he says with a smile on his face, grabbing Stiles’s hand before he can poke him and drawing him even closer.

They stay like that for a while, lazy and naked, with Derek sprawled on his back and Stiles resting his head on Derek’s chest, his shoulder nudged into Derek’s armpit. Derek is absentmindedly rubbing his thumb in that divot of Stiles’s nape, and Stiles is listening to the even sound of Derek’s heart, the steady thumping of life.

“You know I care so much about you,” Derek says quietly, finally breaking the silence, his thumb still caressing him.

Stiles nods into his chest. “Same,” he says.

“And I would do anything to protect you, your dad,” he adds, his voice soft and sincere.

“I know,” Stiles says, pressing a small kiss to Derek’s chest.

“And obviously there’s an attraction between us.”

Stiles snorts indelicately and then bites him.

Derek chuckles and gives his neck a quick squeeze before sighing softly. “But I can’t give you anything more than that, right now.” He shifts so that he can look at Stiles in the face. “You deserve so much love, so much of it. But there are things I need to work through, issues I need to stop burying. It wouldn’t be fair to you. Not to me either,” he murmurs.

Stiles leans in to kiss him gently before nestling back into his shoulder. “I know. It’s the same for me. And I’ll always want you in my life, no matter what.” He pokes him in the ribs before letting his touch turn into something softer. “Somewhere along the way you became one of my closest friends, and I never want to lose that.” He leans into Derek more when he feels those arms press him in closely. “Also, you give a mean blowjob.”

Derek bursts out laughing, and Stiles rubs his face against the vibrations in Derek’s chest. He feels himself relax, knowing they’re good, that his proposition didn’t destroy what they had, what they will have even after he leaves for college.

“You give a pretty good blowjob yourself, considering it was your first time. All that practice on pens must’ve paid off. Feel free to use me as your gold standard, though.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Stiles says fondly. He throws his leg over Derek’s and snuggles more closely. “Shut up and let me sleep.”

They’re awakened the next morning by Derek’s phone, which rings too loudly for the early hour. Derek sees it’s Scott and immediately sits up; Scott only calls when it’s important, usually texting when it’s stupid everyday shit.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks as he answers the call.

“I’m coming over. What time did Stiles leave last night? His dad called me just now, says he got home and Stiles wasn’t there. Maybe I can get a better scent there, since your place was where he was last.”

Derek shoves Stiles to rouse him and then stands up to find some sweats. “No, Scott, Stiles is still here. He fell asleep here and must’ve forgotten to text his dad.” Derek glares at Stiles, who is still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and throws a shirt at his face. “You’re on your way already? Because I could drop him off, give my apologies to the sheriff.”

“Shit, he knows how much his dad worries,” Scott whines, the relief still evident in his voice. “Nah, I’m almost there anyway. I’ll take him home. Thanks, Derek.”

Derek drops the phone and then turns to jostle Stiles again. “Stiles! Why didn’t you tell your dad you were staying here?”

Stiles blinks rapidly. “I did! I texted him last night, at some point. See?” He grabs his phone, only to see that it’s dead. “Shit. Did it die before I sent it? I swear I did.” This wakes him up, and he pulls his shirt on as he slides out of bed.

“Scott is on his way—fuck, he’s here. Get some clothes on, and I’ll let him in. He’s gonna know what we did,” Derek adds gently, unsure of whether he should attempt to lie to Scott.

Stiles shrugs. “It’s fine—it’s not like I wasn’t going to tell him. Lemme take a piss, and then I’ll be right out,” he says as he hears Scott at the door.

Derek goes to open the door, and Scott immediately gives him a look for his shirtless state and his bed head. “Where’s Stiles?”

Derek gestures with his head. “He’s in the bathroom, just waking himself up.” Derek turns towards the coffee, about to offer Scott something to drink.

“Actually, can you just tell him I’m waiting in the car?” Scott asks, giving the door a slap. He sniffs obnoxiously but doesn’t say anything before turning to leave the loft.

Derek watches him go and then exhales loudly. He stretches his arms, his shoulders, and then waits for Stiles to come out.

Stiles is marginally more awake, still sleep tousled and sporting a wicked beard burn on his neck. “Where’s Scott?”

“He’s waiting in the car. Also, he seems incredibly disappointed in me,” Derek says, leaning on a column as he watches Stiles put on his shoes.

Stiles smiles ruefully and then checks his pockets to make sure he has his dead phone and wallet and keys. “Scott is always going to be that guy, the pseudo big brother who has to have some kind of threatening talk to all potential love interests. Don’t worry—I’ll set him straight.” He comes over to Derek and lets his eyes rove his face, as if he’s drinking in every detail. “Thanks. Really, for not laughing at me or making me feel stupid.”

Derek smiles at him and draws him in for a hug. “Glad you felt safe enough to come to me. Also, I got a few things out of it as well.”

“Is that right?” Stiles says, winking at him.

Derek rolls his eyes and pushes him towards the door. “Go. Scott is waiting. Tell your dad it was your fault, not mine. And go enjoy your new discoveries of bisexuality,” he says lightly.

Stiles laughs and heads towards the door, but then he turns and gives Derek a quick, firm kiss on the lips. He gives him another smile and then jogs out the door.

Derek stares after him for a while, an affectionate look on his face, until he sighs softly and then closes the door.

Stiles climbs into Scott’s car and waits until they pull out of Derek’s driveway and out of hearing range.

“Really, Stiles? You thought it’d be a good idea to start something right before you leave for college?” Scott asks, staring straight ahead at the road.

“No, it’s not like that. We’re not dating or anything. I just, kinda, asked for his help in something.”

Scott stops the car at a red light and turns to stare at Stiles. “Seriously? That’s even worse. What the hell, Stiles?” He punches Stiles on the shoulder before moving again when the light turns green.

“Fuck, Scott! That hurt! No, Derek and I talked about it. Honestly, we did. I asked him for a favor, and he complied, and we’re still friends. He’s not looking to start anything, and I’m not either. It’s fine. Nothing has changed.”

“Nothing has changed except you sucked his dick? Are you really this stupid?” Scott says, a look of incredulity on his face.

Stiles exhales noisily. “Look, I know you think this is a bad idea. Was a bad idea. Whatever. I’m so, so serious when I say it’s fine. Trust me, okay, Scotty? Please?”

Scott rolls his eyes and then turns into Stiles’s driveway. “And what about your dad? I can’t believe you forgot to text him.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I don’t know what happened with that. I sent the message, but my phone must’ve died before it sent. I’ve been good for a while, so hopefully he won’t be too mad. Talk to you later?” Stiles jumps out of the car and then gives him a wave. He’s about to open the door when his dad opens it for him. Stiles shrinks a little under his dad’s intense gaze but immediately says, “I swear I texted you! I didn’t mean to make you worry, and it’s been ages since I’ve done anything to make you worry. No supernatural shenanigans. Just regular teenage stuff, promise.”

John squints at him and stares at his neck. “No supernatural shenanigans? That include Derek shenanigans?”

Stiles flushes but refuses to cover his neck, though the impulse is strong. “It’s nothing, Dad.” He winces a little when he sees the look his dad gives him. “I’m just saying that you don’t need to pull him over for speeding and make him have an uncomfortable dinner. I’m leaving for college, and he’s one of my best friends. Nothing has changed.”

John looks at him like he’s stupid, but he refrains from elaborating on that stupidity. “Next time make sure you let me know if you’re staying out all night. Doing nothing. With your bearded best friend.” With that comment, he turns to head up the stairs, ready to sleep after an overnight shift.

Stiles watches him go, wondering if he’ll miss these moments when he leaves for school, whether he’ll bask in the freedom to come and go as he pleases without worrying his dad or Scott or even Derek. He’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

 

Though Stiles is only an hour and a half away (more like an hour with the way he drives), coming home for fall break still feels like a homecoming of sorts. The texts and emails and skypes are just not the same as breathing in the same air as his pack, laughing in the same room, feeling the warmth of bodies all squished on a couch.

They all have their stories to tell, but Isaac can’t stop ribbing Derek about his new job at the high school.

“Come on, Derek. How many notes did you get this time?”

“Shut up, Isaac.” Derek smushes Isaac’s laughing face and then shoves him away. “I don’t get notes. Geez, how inappropriate would that be?”

“Okay, fine. Maybe not physical notes. BUT. Did you all see the latest? Some kid took a secret pic of Derek and posted it on tumblr, and now it has over 10K hits. You should read the tags! So clever, these high school kids.”

Stiles howls with laughter and then grabs the laptop to check it out. “Oh, man, this is awesome.” Stiles clicks through the blog and tries to see if there are any other stealth photos. “I mean, this is terrible. Invasion of privacy and dirty thoughts about one’s teacher is so wrong, but DAMN your ass looks fine in this photo.” Stiles shoots Derek a filthy grin and ignores the glare coming his way. “God, their imaginations must run wild. All those sexy lectures about signing the Constitution and shit.”

“I teach World History, dick bag,” Derek says as he gets up to take out the lasagna from the oven. He ignores the snickering and teasing even as he warms to the sounds of a full pack house. “Stop looking at that shit and set the table!” he yells out.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” Stiles says as he bounces into the kitchen, throwing his arms around Derek’s waist and propping his chin on Derek’s shoulder. “Your new job is great. It’s about time we had someone looking out for the children at the center of our supernatural shitstorm. We should’ve thought of that years ago. Then you would’ve had a reason to be creeping in the boys locker room.” He laughs and narrowly misses the dish towel that Derek snaps in his direction. Grabbing the plates and utensils, Stiles goes out to set the table.

The pack fills the place with warmth and vibrancy and contentedness. Though Derek still glares and hovers and rolls his eyes, he also smiles and laughs and hugs. It’s the first time in a long time that the memory of his family, the way his old home had the feeling of pack saturated in its walls, doesn’t bring sadness with it. There’s joy and happiness and warmth in the way these dinners remind him of his family, and it makes something settle inside him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

When Stiles’s phone lights up with Derek’s growly face, Stiles can’t help but smile. Ironically, he would’ve fist-pumped in excitement and danced around the room a week ago, that excited to have Derek actually think of him and call him. Now, with exams and roommate drama and overall college fatigue, he’s considerably more nonchalant about receiving a phone call from his grumpiest alpha.

“Yo, Derek,” he says as he answers.

“Stiles,” Derek replies, as if he’s not the one who called first.

“So, it this a friendly call? Or should I flex my fingers in preparation for some supernatural research?”

Derek snorts. “I can actually see you wiggling your obscene fingers as you speak.”

“Well, I have been told I’m obscenely good with my fingers,” Stiles says teasingly. They end up talking about nothing, a little bit of flirting but nothing out of the ordinary. Derek mentions seeing his dad at the grocery store picking up ground turkey instead of beef, and Stiles shares his exam schedule with a whine. It’s a conversation between friends, and when they hang up, Stiles sniffs thoughtfully and taps his finger to his phone. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have time to ponder their conversation or his reaction, so he pockets his phone and gets back to work.

 

Stiles is home for spring break, a big college student complete with patchy beard and pale skin, yet somehow he still can’t get away from high school. He squints in the sun, squatting at home plate as Derek tells him about coaching the JV Baseball team.

“No, they don’t really need me in Varsity, you know? They know how to play, they know their style—they’re gunning for states. In JV, they’re still learning. I feel I can help them out, get them to figure out their strengths, learn from their mistakes. I don’t need to lead a team to win. I just wanna help them get better.” Derek winds up his pitch and snaps the ball straight into Stiles’s waiting glove.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Derek,” Stiles mutters under his breath. Stiles throws the ball back and then collapses on the ground, staring up at the sky.

“What?” Derek says defensively as he comes over to sit next to him. “You think just because—“

“No, I don’t, so just shut up.” Stiles glares right back when he sees Derek’s reaction. “Seriously, it’s great what you’re doing with the JV team. They need someone like you who doesn’t forget about them just because they’re not the best. Really, it’s so perfectly you, to take them under your large biceps and coach them.”

Derek rolls his eyes and then lies back next to Stiles. “Then what—“ He starts moving his eyebrows when Stiles immediately places his hand over Derek’s mouth.

“Can you just stop talking for a moment, please? I’m already exploding over the cuteness of Coach Hale believing with all of his heart in his little team of hopeful underclassmen. I don’t want to hear any more. Just—let’s just enjoy the smell of fresh cut grass while the feeling in my hand returns after catching your balls.”

“I thought you liked catching balls,” Derek says the minute Stiles lifts his hands.

Stiles immediately groans and slaps his hand on Derek’s mouth again. “Of course he makes inappropriate jokes as well,” he mutters again as he covers his face with his mitt. “I like pitching, too, you know,” he yells into his mitt when he feels Derek laughing next to him.

 

The house by the beach is filled with memories from Derek’s childhood—races in the cold ocean, huge sand castles, bonfires and marshmallows, the sound of laughter sprinkled with the smell of charcoal. It’s been empty for ages, closed indefinitely when Laura and Derek fled Beacon Hills in an attempt to find some kind of sanity without the odor of burning ashes following them everywhere they went.

When Cora came back, when they needed a break from Beacon Hills after the Alpha Pack sunk their claws in and shook their lives violently, Derek bundled her up and took her there to recoup. He had three separate cleaning companies come in before he would even step foot in it; Derek was afraid of being assaulted with the smell of his ghost pack, but more afraid of searching for it and not being able to find it underneath all the layers of dust and mold and disuse—better to start from scratch and make new memories. He and Cora had spent their time shopping for new linens, quietly allowing themselves to become numb with the stupid decisions of color and thread count. Once settled inside, they allowed the serenity of the house and waves soothe the ache in their hearts and knit them whole again. When they left the house, Derek vowed to come back more often and not let it fall into disrepair again.

So when the pack starts making noises about doing some kind of weekend away to laze about in the sun, Derek and Cora meet eyes and smile. It’s easy from there—the hardest decision ends up being who’s going to room with whom, but with so much space even that becomes a non-issue. They caravan up to the house and then tumble out with shouts of excitement and anticipation. Scott actually strips as he runs onto the private beach in the back and dives right in as Stiles cheers and whoops from the car. The rest of the gang quickly follow, but Derek and Boyd unpack the cars and head in with the luggage.

The smell of grilled meat brings everyone back to the house, and the air is charged with contentment and joy; it’s a wonderful feeling, and Derek does his best not to get choked up, even as Cora comes and gives him a hug from behind, holding on a tad longer to show she feels the same way.

Night falls, and they get the bonfire going. They’re talking about nothing, laughter bursting out occasionally. Derek sits back and stares up at the sky and soaks it all in. He’s happy. His life isn’t perfect, and there are things that still make his heart clench and his claws come out, but right now, in the midst of his pack and in the home of his family, he’s happy.

Stiles barrels into him, sprawling on the sand next to his low-slung chair before sitting up and leaning his head back on Derek’s thigh. “Hey, big guy. Whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asks with a huge grin on his face.

Derek chuckles fondly when he sees the beer in Stiles’s grin and loose-limbed posture. He runs his fingers through Stiles’s hair once before saying, “Just enjoying this. Being happy. Seeing everyone else happy.”

Stiles turns to look at Derek more fully. “Derek Hale. Happy. This is a big day.” He pushes himself up carefully and throws out his arms. “Guys. GUYS. Derek Hale is happy!” He spins happily with a drunken smile on his face.

He hears a couple of cheers in response—Boyd and Isaac lift their beers in his honor, and Cora uses her fingers to whistle loudly next to them; Scott hollers and howls, while Kira just laughs and claps in support while trying to shush Scott, the huge smile on her face showing her support of Derek’s happiness; Lydia shakes her head at their antics but gives Derek a nod and a fond smile. Derek is thankful for them all, and his heart sighs contentedly even as he rolls his eyes and tells them all to shut the fuck up.

Stiles collapses once more next to him, settling his head on his thigh again. “This is good, Derek. Happiness is good. We all need happiness, you know?” He takes a long swig of his beer. “Too bad you can’t get drunk. I mean, not easily, anyway. Boyd and Isaac and Scott talk about how they like the taste or something, but I can’t tell the difference between an IPA and a hoppy brew or whatever the fuck Isaac talks about. He’s always telling Scott about that, but whatever. I guess you have to talk about the taste if it’s not going to do anything else for you. Me? I don’t need to talk about the taste because it’s not the taste that I’m here for. I’m here for the buzz. The buzzzzzzz, Derek.” Stiles moves to take another swig and then pouts when he realizes the bottle is empty. He peers into it sadly, as if it will magically refill itself. He gets some droplets on his cheek, which he promptly wipes with his thumb and then sucks it.

Derek gently pries the bottle from his hands and places it on the other side of him. “I don’t mind the taste of beer. It’s just another drink for me, though. I don’t particularly like being out of control, so it’s not worth it for me to use all those werewolf tricks to get drunk.”

Stiles’s eyes widen at his words. “Wait, there are tricks? Do the others know? Scott! Scott!” Stiles says before Derek muffles him with his hand.

“Stiles, they went inside already.” Derek removes his hand and rests it on Stiles’s chest.

Stiles looks around and then sees the dying bonfire, the empty seats around it. “Huh.” He sniffs and then snuggles more firmly into Derek’s thigh. “Guess they were all tired.”

Derek snorts. “Something like that.”

Stiles starts playing with Derek’s fingers, playing with the nails and then staring in amazement as Derek lets them grow and retract at will. They sit like that for a while until Stiles says, “So you don’t like being out of control? Ever? But like, isn’t it nice sometimes to just let your defenses down and enjoy the lack of filter?”

“That’s you when you’re sober, Stiles. How is that different when you’re drunk?” Derek says with a scoff, though the gentle way he glides his thumb against Stiles’s hands belie the harshness of his tone.

“Hey!” Stiles complains as he whacks Derek in the chest. “I’ll have you know that my rambling and lack of filter is all a calculated and deliberate maneuver to trick people into underestimating me,” Stiles says with a pout. “I’m always in control. That’s why it’s so nice to get drunk around people I trust. I can let loose and know that no one will be dead in the morning.” Stiles tries to infuse that last line with humor, but it falls flat.

Derek pulls Stiles towards him, and they sit in the dark for a bit, enjoying the glow of the dying fire and the warmth of each other’s arms.

 

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles says.

Derek furrows his brow when he hears Stiles’s voice on the phone. He runs through what he knows of Stiles’s calendar in his head and wonders why Stiles is calling him at 8 am on a Sunday. “You okay?”

“Totally fine. Absolutely, totally fine,” Stiles says immediately.

Derek pauses, hearing the near giddy note in Stiles’s voice. He closes his eyes briefly. “Are you calling me to tell me you got laid?” he asks with his head in his hands.

“YES! Oh man, I knew you’d figure it out,” Stiles says, his smug grin apparent in his voice. “Totally got laid last night.”

“Let me guess—you lost a different type of virginity?”

“Derek Hale, you are one smart fucker,” Stiles responds cheekily.

Derek can hear him moving around, as if he’s walking somewhere. “Was it so good that he kicked you out? Couldn’t have been amazing if you’re walking that quickly.” He laughs when he hears Stiles choke a little at his words.

“I chose to leave! I have so much shit to do, and I needed to get out before I got sucked back into that lascivious bed of lust,” Stiles sputters indignantly. “Thomas was really good about making sure I was ready. It was great. Totally different but still so great.”

Derek snorts loudly. “Well, Stiles, I’m glad you had a great night last night, and I am so glad you called me this morning to tell me,” Derek says. “I was up late last night grading papers, so my ass hurts but for a less interesting and satisfying reason.”

Stiles laughs loudly. “I’ll let you go back to bed. Just had to share,” Stiles says, still chuckling.

“Okay. I’m glad, Stiles. Glad he’s good to you,” Derek says sincerely.

“Thanks, man.” There’s a pause, and the two of them simply listen to each other breathe. “See you, Derek.”

“Bye, Stiles.”


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Derek meets Rachele while jogging in the public paths of the Preserve. They pass each other a few times before she actually strikes up a conversation with him. His first inclination is to brush her off, the way he normally does, but she catches him at a weak moment. Her smile is genuine, and she merely introduces herself, says it’s nice to meet another running enthusiast. Nothing more than that for a week or so, but when he runs into her in town at the local café, she strikes up a conversation. They end up chatting at a table for an hour, and by the time they leave, they’ve exchanged phone numbers and set a tentative date to hike together. Derek gets into his car and sits for a while, still a little shocked by what has happened. He hesitates for a moment before calling Stiles.

“Hey, Derek. What’s up?” Stiles says when he answers the phone.

Derek hears him puttering around his apartment like he’s getting dinner ready or something. “You busy right now?”

“Nah, just making some mac and cheese for dinner, the healthy choice for a poor college student. Scott’s out, and I’m just taking a quick break before getting back to my essay. You?”

Derek nods, as if Stiles can see his movement. He clears his throat and then says, “I think someone just asked me out on a date.”

Stiles laughs. “Why do you sound so confused? I bet people would do that all the time if you actually let them talk to you before glaring at them.” He pauses, and then it sounds like he puts a pot down. Derek can almost see him freeze. “Wait, how did someone get through all those defenses? Hold on, did you actually say yes?”

“I might have?” Derek says, the question clear in his voice. “I’ve seen her a few times—her name is Rachele—jogging. Ran into her at the café, and then we just started chatting. It just seemed easy. I don’t know. Nothing’s definite, but we exchanged numbers.” Derek feels nervous, though he’s not sure why.

“That’s—that’s great, Derek,” Stiles says sincerely. “Really, she sounds nice. I mean, her name sounds nice? But more than that, you sound like you’re surprised, but pleasantly surprised. I think this might be really good.”

Derek exhales slowly, his shoulders slightly less tense with Stiles’s words of reassurance. “Yeah, I think you might be right.” He sits for a moment, just listening to Stiles breathe, before saying, “Okay, I’ll let you eat. I’ll talk to you later.” They say their goodbyes and then hang up.

Stiles looks at the phone for a few minutes and then slides into a chair. He doesn’t know why Derek’s phone call has unsettled him, but he can’t deny that he’s affected. It’s not like Stiles hasn’t called Derek with the exact same kind of news, even if the conversation has gone slightly differently. It’s just that this is the first time Derek has called _him_ about a date. He’s never been on the receiving side, and he wonders if Derek feels like this when Stiles calls him about getting hit on, about going on dates and hooking up with people. It makes him think.

Later that week, Stiles checks the Hale the Hottie (historicallyhothale) tag on tumblr and sees a pic of Derek with a brunette, both of their perfect bodies in workout gear with smiles on their faces, completely unaware that they’re being stealth photographed. He’s outraged at first, the idea of Derek’s privacy being invaded by his students, but that doesn’t stop him from staring at the photo, analyzing the sincerity of Derek’s smile and the appearance of this Rachele person that makes her different from all the others who have tried and failed at asking out Derek Hale. Honestly, they seem really happy, and Stiles certainly can’t find fault with her looks. Staring one more minute, he closes out of the tag, unwilling to analyze his own complex response to the photo. He ends up calling Britt, a girl he’s gone on a few dates with, and makes plans to see her later that night.

\--

Rachele is the sweetest. She has a bright smile and a sarcastic sense of humor. She laughs at Derek’s glares and coaxes out his laughter. They go on hikes and visit the farmer’s market and even go salsa dancing. Rachele is a yoga instructor and personal trainer, completely new to the area. She ends up clicking with Kira, and they talk about training methods and ways to get stronger without bulking up.

Derek isn’t introducing her officially or anything—he has no intention of revealing his werewolf identity or getting her to be part of the pack—but when they run into Boyd and Cora at Whole Foods, buying food for a picnic they’re planning to take on their hike, they end up making it a group thing. Oddly, he’s not embarrassed or irritated at having his worlds collide. They know he’s been seeing Rachele, and Derek has mentioned them to her as well. It’s natural enough to decide to hike together, and there’s an easy companionship that springs up among them. It’s a nice surprise; Derek finds himself smiling back when Cora gives him a knowing look.

And the sex? The sex is great. It’s playful and fun and open. There’s no secrecy to what they’re doing, no impending threat or gaping wounds or anything. He recognizes that he probably has some seriously problematic associations with sex, but Rachele goes a long way in helping him repair those concerns. Between her and his therapist, he feels pretty good about this relationship.

It’s why he’s so thrown when Rachele calls him and asks if she can come over to talk about something. Derek appreciates that she’s always honest with him, so he knows right away that something is wrong. He wracks his brain, trying to figure out if he’s done something wrong or done something offensive or even too revealing in terms of his werewolf nature. Nothing comes to mind, so his thoughts are all over the place.

Derek is tense when he lets Rachele in, but he lets her set the pace. Once he takes the food she brings into the kitchen, he focuses on getting out plates and glasses and pretends that they’re just having dinner the way they have innumerable times before.

Finally, Rachele puts down her fork and says, “Do you remember my friend Kat? I mentioned that she moved recently to Atlanta?”

Derek nods and sets his fork down as well. He braces himself for rejection—for Kat’s scathing criticism of the way he treats Rachele or the declaration of love for her best friend that she’s been using him to suppress—something.

“She’s found an investor, and she’s opening up a yoga center there. She wants me to be her co-partner.” Rachele nervously rubs her hands together and finally looks Derek in the eye. “I’m moving in a week.”

Derek exhales so quickly he starts to laugh. He notices her face, the way it’s quickly moving from surprised hurt to anger, so he stops and says, “No, I’m not—it’s not that I’m relieved to hear you’re moving or anything like that. I’m actually really happy for you because I know this is one of your dreams.” He reaches out and takes her hand. “It sounds perfect. I know you miss working with Kat, and the idea of being able to lead your own studio is amazing.” Derek looks down briefly as he pulls his hand away. “Honestly, I just thought you were going to break up with me because of something I did. The fact that it’s something beyond my control and yours—it just makes me feel better. That sounds terrible.” He scrunches his face and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Rachele. I’m—“

She gets up and sits in his lap, kissing him gently. “Derek, the past few months have been really great for me, and I’m sad that I’m moving because I think, in time, we could’ve been really good. But I’m moving, and you and I both know that long distance isn’t even an option for us. Still, you’re one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever been with.” She brushes her fingers over his face, caressing his cheekbone and smoothing out an eyebrow. “I don’t know what happened to you, who hurt you, but I’m glad to have been part of the healing process, in whatever capacity.”

Derek stares at her and then draws her close again, wondering if he ever gave her enough credit for being so perceptive.

They sleep together one last time, and then she hugs him hard and tells him to keep in touch. 

 

“You fucker, why didn’t you tell me you and Rachele broke up?” Stiles demands before Derek can even answer the phone.

“I thought I was going to see you next week for spring break.” Derek continues to sort his laundry as he hears Stiles loudly flailing over the phone.

“You weren’t even going to call me before then? What the fuck? I know how important she was to you. She even met some of the pack. What the hell, Derek? You know you don’t have to suffer in silence and loneliness or whatever. Are you even going to tell me what happened?”

Derek throws the last of the laundry into the machine and turns it on before answering. “She’s moving to Atlanta to open a yoga studio with a friend. It’s something she’s dreamed of doing. Nothing went wrong. We weren’t serious enough to try the long-distance thing. We might keep in touch. I’m fine, Stiles. Really.”

Stiles pauses, and the silence stretches out. Derek knows better than to fill the empty space with words, and he can’t help smile a little when he can tell the moment Stiles believes him.

“Why did you let Kira believe you were all broken up? She sent out this SOS email about your poor heart!”

“Well, she said she would make ddukbokki?” Derek says not quite regretfully.

“The one with spam that she doesn’t make any more because Scott kept farting after?”

“Yes,” Derek says immediately. “That one. Also, she said her dad would make spider rolls and spicy tuna rolls.”

“You are such a fucker! You’re using your pack for good food!” Stiles yells, the smile evident in the way his voice travels across the line.

“You’re the one who’s always saying I should let them take care of me,” Derek points out. “I’m going to miss her, even if I’m not crying my eyes out every night. And it was a good relationship. She was great, really sweet and funny.”

“And the sex was great,” Stiles says immediately.

Derek sighs at the memory. “It really was.”

“Not better than sex with me, I bet,” Stiles says teasingly.

Derek laughs and says, “It’s been a while, so I couldn’t say without a refresher.”

Stiles stares at his phone when he realizes Derek is actually flirting back. He’s about to say something, possibly even offer to jog his memory, when Derek tells him he’s not saving any food for him before hanging up.

Stiles still has a smile on his face, and he feels less guilty about secretly being relieved that they’ve broken up when he’s sure Derek is fine.  He tells himself it’s just because he’s looking out for a friend and then emails Kira back to say he’ll be there with a tray of Derek’s favorite Nutella brownies.

\--

Derek allows himself to be pampered and consoled by Kira; the rest of the pack bring goodies and let Derek choose the dinner music and the post-dinner movie—big concessions. When Derek catches Stiles staring a beat too long, he communicates with his eyebrows that he better not tell his secret. Stiles shoves a brownie in his mouth to avoid laughing and only ends up choking.

 

The beach house becomes a regular thing for the pack; Derek isn’t even there half the time. He likes it that way, enjoys how they’ve reached a level of comfort in sharing ownership of all the various personal spaces. This particular weekend finds a random assortment of people: Derek, Boyd, Kira, and Stiles all head out to the beach house with their swim suits and surf boards and little else. Kira has been learning how to surf, and she’s been coming every chance she can get to work on her moves. Boyd and Stiles come and go as their schedules allow, and Derek is trying to squeeze in one last mini-vacation before the school year begins for teachers. There’s a very relaxed atmosphere to the trip, no schedule and no agenda. Kira hits the waves almost immediately. Boyd follows soon after, but Derek decides to sit back and watch, sipping on a beer and digging his toes into the sand. He smiles as he sees Kira catch a perfect wave and reminds himself to tell her so when she eventually emerges from the water. Stiles is walking along the beach with his camera, taking shots of anything that happens to capture his fancy. Derek knows Stiles has a bulletin board completely devoted to the pack, and he likes to update those photos frequently.

Despite the fact that each of them is doing something different, there’s a connection running among them that makes Derek feel content. He places the empty bottle next to him and lies back on the sand. With the clear sky above him and the soothing crash of waves before him, he lets himself drift off to sleep.

He wakes to the aroma of grilled steaks and coziness. He blinks away his sleep and sees Stiles curled up next to him, which explains the warm smell of home. He smiles fondly and then gently shakes him awake.

“Hey, wake up. I think Boyd has the grill going,” Derek says as he stretches the sleep out of his body. Stiles snuffles into his elbow but doesn’t wake up. Derek considers grabbing some water and throwing it on him, but he’s still not completely awake. Instead, Derek decides to start massaging Stiles’s shoulders and back, gently at first and then more intensely when he realizes how many tense Stiles is.

“I’ve definitely had dreams like this,” Stiles murmurs as he starts to wake up. He arches his back slightly in response to Derek’s hands gently running down his spine and then groans when Derek starts working a knot in his shoulder. “I sincerely hope this dream goes all the way to the happy ending.”

Derek just snorts and continues kneading Stiles’s shoulders and back. Eventually, his hands soften, and then he smacks Stiles’s ass playfully. “Time to get up. I’m hungry,” Derek says as he starts to get up.

“What? Noooooo,” Stiles says as he reaches out and grabs Derek’s hand before he can move away. “You can’t just get up and leave me here.” He pulls and makes Derek lie back down next to him. “You can’t give me a boner and then slap my ass and not do anything about it.”

Derek laughs and then rolls his eyes before leaning in and giving Stiles a soft kiss. “Sorry, babe. Kira and Boyd are probably on the deck, and I’m not so into exhibitionism,” Derek whispers before popping up and heading back towards the house.

“Liar!”

 

Because Stiles asks, Derek comes up to visit him one weekend. Stiles has tickets to a baseball game, so they end up spending their first few hours in the sun, chowing down on hot dogs and beer, yelling their throats hoarse at the triple play, the bad calls by the ump, the home run at the bottom of the ninth. They’re in high spirits when they get back to the apartment. Scott is there, so the three of them order pizza and sit around the table talking about everything and anything. It’s a nice, casual atmosphere, and the affection among the three of them is clear. They stay up late marathoning _Game of Thrones_ , and they all end up passed out on the couch cushions they pulled onto the floor somewhere between season 1 and the Red Wedding.

The next morning, Scott grabs his bag and gets ready to leave; Kira is taking a trip to New York for a martial arts convention, and Scott is going with her. He’s excited, having never been off the West Coast, but he gives Stiles a complicated look before he leaves.

“You heading back to Beacon Hills tonight?” Scott asks Derek, feigning nonchalance as he fiddles with his bag and his phone.

“Yeah, tonight. We’re going to Stiles’s school event and then I’ll probably drive back before it’s late,” Derek replies carefully. “You want me to pass on any messages?”

“Nah, I’ll call my mom from the airport. Take care,” he says, patting Derek on the shoulder. He turns to Stiles and gives him a hug. “Make good choices,” he says into Stiles’s neck.

Stiles rolls his eyes and pushes him to the door. “Have fun. Tell Kira we love her,” he calls out as Scott leaves. He pointedly ignores the questioning look that Derek has on his face and starts putting away the breakfast dishes. “You sure you don’t mind coming with me to this thing? I would blow it off, but my favorite professor is hosting it, and he only comes out every so often.”

“I don’t mind at all, Stiles. I can finally put faces to all those names you whine about all the time.”

Stiles smacks Derek on the arm before heading to his room. “I’m gonna shower. I have a few errands to run before we go to the function, if that’s okay.”

Derek waves him off, knowing Stiles isn’t really asking for his opinion. He heads to the kitchen and starts washing the dishes that are stacked by the sink.

By the time Stiles is out of the shower, toweling his hair as he walks out of his room in a snug purple Henley and dark jeans, Derek has finished the dishes, thrown out all the gross stuff in the back of the fridge, and wiped down the counter. He throws Stiles a judgmental look as he throws a disgusting rag into the trash can.

“You know what? You can judge all you want. I’m the one who gets the clean kitchen. I will gladly take that look. Also, you have issues. As your friend, I want you to know that you can work out those issues by cleaning our place as often as you want,” Stiles says as he sprawls at the kitchen table and sighs happily as he runs his fingers over the clean surface.

Derek shoves him over and laughs at the way Stiles yelps out in an attempt to keep his balance. “I’m showering. See if you can keep the place clean for at least that long.” He doesn’t even flinch when he feels magazine hit his back.

They spend the rest of the morning walking around campus. Stiles returns some books to the library for his thesis and grabs a few more. Then, he drops off some notes at a classmate’s dorm room and stops by his work to talk to his manager in person about changing his hours for finals week. Derek merely trails behind him, enjoying the mindlessness of the day, watching fondly as Stiles zips through the campus with ease. He notices the looks Stiles gets, the blushes from his co-worker that Stiles doesn’t see and the way the library worker rests his eyes on Stiles’s forearms, bulging with the weight of books. Though Derek doesn’t say anything, he enjoys the satisfaction he gets from letting people assume they’re together, the way their eyes widen slightly as they take in the two of them. They’re ready to head to his professor’s party when Stiles finally slows down.

“Thanks for coming up this weekend,” Stiles says, glancing up at his through his lashes. “Things have been kind of crazy lately. It’s nice having you here,” he says simply.

Derek reaches and brings Stiles closer as they continue to walk, his hand resting reassuringly against the nape of his neck. “It’s nice seeing the campus from your perspective. And you’re pack. It’s always going to be better for me when you’re near. Any time, Stiles. Seriously.” He gives his neck a quick squeeze and then drapes his arm more casually around him.

Stiles ducks his head, a small smile on his face, and keeps walking. “I should warn you that you might get hit on at this party.”

Derek rolls his eyes and bumps Stiles with his hips. “Please. They’re not going to hit on me if I come with you. They’re going to assume we’re together.”

Stiles beams. “So you’re saying they’ll think I’m hot enough to bag a hottie like you?”

Derek rolls his eyes loudly. “Seriously, Stiles? You have already bagged me. I have sucked your dick. Also, you’ve hooked up with lots of people since then.” Derek shakes his head. “And you’re still playing that card?”

Stiles just starts laughing and walks ahead to turn around and face him. As he walks backwards, he grins widely and says, “Fine, fine. I’m hot. I can pick up hot people. And we can be hot together. Happy?” At Derek’s shrug, he spins around and then snuggles back into Derek’s shoulder. “So you’re gonna be my hot man candy at this event?” He shrieks in surprise when Derek viciously pinches his ass, but he doesn’t say anything when Derek’s hand slips into his back pocket and stays there.

\--

It’s not that they play it up, pretending to be besotted lovers who can’t keep their hands off of each other, but their interaction is marked by a level of comfort. Throughout the night, they’re in each other’s spaces more often than not, and it’s a subtle intimacy that doesn’t go unnoticed. There’s no particular reason to pretend to be together, but they’re not correcting any misperceptions. It’s easy, having Derek near enough to touch, to whisper a scathing observation in his ear, to grab a glass of wine and sit thigh to thigh.

So neither one is surprised when, once they get back to the apartment, Stiles turns to Derek and kisses him softly, his tongue only lightly tasting Derek’s lips and catching a hint of red wine. The lights are still off, but Stiles pulls back a little, wanting to make sure Derek is on board with this slight turn of events. When Derek snakes his hand beneath the back of Stiles’s shirt and pulls him in, Stiles smiles with satisfaction and presses him slowly against the door. They kiss slowly, deeply, luxuriating in the taste of each other’s mouths and slide of tongue against tongue. Stiles slips his fingers into the front of Derek’s jeans and pulls him forward as he walks towards his bedroom. Derek smiles against his mouth and directs him so he doesn’t hit anything on the way there.

Once they get to the bedroom, the atmosphere heats up. Stiles pushes Derek onto the bed and immediately starts kissing him again while reading for his jeans. As he pulls down the zipper slowly, he gives Derek a wicked grin and starts kissing his neck and chest and stomach. Derek pulls off his shirt and then yanks at Stiles’s top; they both get thrown to the floor, and the skin against skin contact pushes groans out of both of them.

Stiles is matching every tug of Derek’s underwear with a filthy, wet kiss pressed to those delicious v-lines until finally he pulls Derek’s dick out. He gives the head a lick and then kisses each ball gently. He looks up at Derek coyly, as if warning him to get ready, and then he starts lapping the groove of his head, thrusting into his slit with each lick. Derek closes his eyes at the sensation, but they fly open when he feels Stiles completely swallow him. He threads his fingers through Stiles’s hair and watches as Stiles bobs up and down with ease, his tongue working against the length of him. He goes a little deeper each time until Stiles’s nose is pressed right up against his skin and his fingers are gripping Derek’s hip bones.

Derek breathes in harshly, tugging slightly at Stiles’s hair. Stiles pulls off slowly and firmly squeezes the base of Derek’s cock. Derek is about to say something, but then Stiles sucks just the tip, tongue swirling around the head repeatedly, and Derek is unable to say much more than “Stiles, fuck” in a breathy voice. He knows he’s close, but he can tell by the gleam in Stiles’s eye that he’s not going to stop until Derek explodes. He starts clenching his legs and thrusting shallowly, and that only makes Stiles suck harder, flatly press his tongue against Derek’s cock with every bob. Derek can feel the pressing sensation of an orgasm, and he throws his head back to feel every wave of pleasure. Wrapping one hand around Stiles’s wrist, he keeps the other in Stiles’s hair. It’s an agonizingly slow ascent, but Derek loves dragging out the moment as long as possible. When he ultimately reaches the top and comes, his entire body tenses and folds with pleasure. 

After finally blinking away the last tremors of his orgasm, Derek opens his eyes to see Stiles smirking at him, sucking a bit of come off his thumb. Derek snorts and then inhales deeply. “Well, you certainly got better at that,” he says wryly.

Stiles beams and says, “Damn right I did. Now are you going to show me your new tricks as well?” He slides his body up Derek’s torso and kisses his lightly, though Derek holds him close and sucks on his tongue, breathing in his own scent from Stiles’s mouth.

Without answering, Derek unzips Stiles’s jeans quickly and then uses his feet to push them off of him, loving every whimper Stiles makes. Derek runs his hands up and down Stiles’s back as they kiss, and then he glides his hand down the curve of Stiles’s ass, his middle finger sliding right into the groove between his cheeks. Once he hears Stiles inhale sharply, Derek uses that opportunity to flip them easily.

“Fuck,” Stiles says breathlessly. “I forgot how much I love that,” he stutters as Derek starts licking and sucking his way down his chest. Stiles braces himself for the first touch of Derek’s tongue on his cock, but it never comes. Instead he feels a wet lick right under his balls, right by his hole, and his whole body tenses in anticipation. He feels the scratch of Derek’s stubble between his thighs, and he can’t contain his moans of anticipation. Derek simply burrows deeper, and Stiles spreads his legs wider to give him more room.

“Turn over,” Derek murmurs as he continues to kiss his balls and the skin underneath. Stiles’s cock jerks when Derek nips that sensitive spot by his inner thigh, and he rolls slowly, trying to keep from touching himself. He wants to draw this out as long as possible, so he lets his cock drip pre-come and sucks on the fleshy part of his palm.

With Stiles’s ass in front of him, legs spread widely, Derek rubs his thumbs all around his hole and blows lightly. He smiles at the way Stiles clenches in response, and then he puts Stiles out of his misery by giving him a long, wet lick. Stiles groans loudly in response, his breathing unsteady and harsh. Derek continues to lick slowly, sometimes using the flat of his tongue and sometimes the point. He fucks him with his mouth, and he spreads Stiles’s cheeks to rub his chin all around. Stiles clenches and curses and sobs with pleasure, and Derek greedily eats up all his sexy noises. Though he uses one hand to caress Stiles’s balls, he still keeps his hands away from Stiles’s cock. He can feel the way it jerks when it gets good, when Derek’s kisses get wet and sloppy around a finger that he presses just barely inside his rim.

Stiles’s entire body feels on fire with pleasure. Though he’s hinted at being interested in this kind of ass play, he’s never found someone willing to do it—not even to let him do it. He assumed it was something strictly found in porn, but of course Derek is proving him wrong. His tongue is pushing him to the edge and keeping him there. Stiles’s dick is so hard it aches; his skin fizzes with arousal, and he wonders if he’ll actually be able to come without touching himself. The thought makes him moan.

Derek knows Stiles is close, has been close for quite some time, but Derek is enjoying bringing him to the edge and then backing off just slightly. He wants Stiles to feel the burn of pleasure, the ache of delayed gratification. When Stiles’s heart starts beating faster and his body tightening even more, Derek slides one hand over Stiles’s to grip their fingers together. Using his lips to push open Stiles’s loosened hole, he fucks him hard with his tongue, every thrust joined by a throaty moan. When Derek feels Stiles finally let go, he stills and presses his tongue forward, wanting to feel the aftershocks of his orgasm. Instead of letting him slump onto the wet spot, Derek slides up Stiles’s back and then uses their joined hands to pull him against his chest, leaning down to lick the bit of come that lands on their hands. As he nuzzles the back of his neck, Derek listens to Stiles’s heart beat slowly come back down to normal.

“So,” Stiles says, his throat scratchy and hoarse from moaning. “I definitely thought that was only a porn thing.”

Derek laughs against his back. “Well, being a werewolf does have certain advantages. If you were with a human, they might have more hang-ups about it, and I’d definitely tell you to be safer. But since I can’t catch anything or give you anything, I thought you might enjoy it.”

Stiles chuckles weakly. “I certainly did. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard, much less come without someone touching my dick. I hope you at least liked doing it.” He sighs in satisfaction and snuggles into Derek’s chest further.

Derek smiles into Stiles’s neck and ghosts a kiss against his shoulder blade. “You have no idea,” Derek murmurs, sending shivers down Stiles’s spine.

“Yeah? You like it that much?” Stiles whispers, his eyes closed as he enjoys the way Derek’s breath skates over his skin.

“I do,” Derek says simply. He lets Stiles relax further before sliding out of the bed. “Just going to clean up. Go ahead and sleep,” he says as he presses a kiss to Stiles’s temple and heads to the bathroom. As he rinses his mouth and pees, Derek enjoys the stretch of his muscles and the feeling of a well-satisfied body. Once the shower gets hot, near scalding, and steps in. He’s only been there for a few minutes when he hears Stiles walk in. It’s a tiny bathroom—city apartments and all—but Stiles sidles in and then presses his body against Derek’s. They stay there for a long moment, body pressed against body with the water streaming down and puddling in between them. He senses Stiles’s fragility in the shaky, suppressed exhale; Derek wraps his arms around him tightly and says nothing. Eventually they break apart. They share a few kisses before cleaning perfunctorily, and then they towel off quickly. Stiles has changed the sheets, so they both fall into bed naked, slumped against each other. Sleep comes quickly.

When Derek wakes up, he finds Stiles curled up in a ball and completely turned away from Derek. He moves slightly, only to see Stiles tense up and unconsciously move away. Derek winces at the thought and then gets out of bed noiselessly. After throwing on his clothes and then washing up, he putters around the kitchen, making coffee and packing his bag. He’s on his second cup of coffee when Stiles emerges, sleepy-eyed and shirtless, barely awake as he waves at Derek on his way to the bathroom. Once he hears the water running, Derek goes back into the bedroom to retrieve the rest of his stuff.

He’s ready to go by the time Stiles gets out of the bathroom looking marginally more awake. “You heading out already?” he asks, sliding his hand around Derek’s waist before grabbing a mug of coffee.

“Yeah, might as well get an early start since I was originally going to get back last night.” Soothed by Stiles’s easy manner, Derek feels the relief that there’s no tension this morning after. Still, he decides it’s better not to push his luck. He starts checking his pockets to make sure he has everything and picks up his bag.

“Hold on a sec. I’ll walk you down.” Stiles takes another gulp of his coffee and goes to his bedroom to grab a t-shirt. He pockets his keys and then opens the door so they can go down to Derek’s car together.

As they walk, Derek hesitates for a moment before asking, “Do you, I mean, you don’t—“ he stutters.

“No, no, don’t worry about it, Derek. I’m not in love with you or anything,” Stiles interrupts blithely. “I mean, it was great. But I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Stiles says as he rubs his eyes. “It’s been barely a week or so that I finally cut things off for the last time with Britt. And I almost called Thomas a few nights ago, even though I know that would’ve been terrible—so unfair to him, knowing how he feels about me.” He scrubs his fingers through his hair and exhales loudly. “I guess I’m just fucked up. But I feel safe with you.” He grins sheepishly at Derek.

Derek smiles softly back at him and ignores the squeezing sensation of his heart. They arrive at Derek’s car, and they hug firmly before Derek gets into the car. As he drives away, he watches Stiles recede into the background, the weight on his heart still there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in making ddukbokki, [here is the recipe](http://kimchimari.com/2011/10/09/ddukbokki-with-vegetables-and-fish-cake/). It is one of my favorite comfort foods. I often use spam instead of the fish cake listed in the recipe, and I also add ramen noodles. Korean street food <3


	5. Chapter 5

When Scott returns later that week, he notices something slightly off about Stiles. They have their usual full-body hug, and Scott regales him with stories about New York City and his time with Kira, but Stiles isn’t quite as engaged as he’s pretending to be.

Later that night, he finds Stiles mulling over a textbook, highlighter in hand, clearly not reading. Grabbing a glass of water, he comes to sit at the table across from him.

“You did it, didn’t you. I told you not to,” Scott says with a sigh.

Stiles doesn’t even look up. “Can’t you see I’m studying, Scott? Aren’t you tired?” Stiles says as he pulls the cap off the highlighter and adds some color to a page.

Scott just takes a gulp of his water and waits. He’s halfway finished with his glass when Stiles finally says something.

“I don’t get why you get so angry with me when it happens. I don’t see you getting all angry with Derek,” Stiles says, his eyes still on his textbook.

“C’mon, Stiles. _You’re_ my best friend, not Derek. Derek is Derek—he has Boyd to give him shit. This is about you, about my not wanting to see you do this to yourself again.”

“Do what? Get laid? Have amazing orgasms with someone hot as fuck?”

Scott just waits again, lets Stiles deflate a little before saying, “Tell me again why you don’t just date? If he’s such an amazing catch?” Scott reaches forward and takes the book away from him. “And don’t give me your bullshit answer about just getting out of a relationship,” Scott interrupts when he sees Stiles about to give him a snarky answer. “This is a question I’ve asked you for years. This is me, Stiles.”

Stiles starts playing with the highlighter as he takes in a deep breath. He thunks his head on the table once and then lets it rest there. “I think maybe I care too much,” Stiles says quietly, still not making eye contact. “I don’t think I could give him what he deserves, not with all my fucked up issues and trail of shitty relationships.” He sits up and rubs his eyes. “I guess I want the best for him—because he should have the best. He’s had such horrible experiences, and he deserves to know what it’s like to be truly loved. And I don’t think I’d be able to do that.” Stiles exhales slowly. “And I think I’d hate myself if I ended up hurting him.”

Scott waits for Stiles to finally look up before saying quietly, “You don’t think you’re hurting him now?” He watches as a flash of hurt slides across Stiles’s face before settling into something deliberately casual.

“Nah, I don’t have the power to hurt him like that,” he says, shrugging, pretending that the hitch in his throat is nothing.

Scott stares at him for a beat but says nothing more.

 

“Why can’t you time your romantic train wrecks better? It’s always right around finals time,” Derek says from the kitchen, where he’s brewing coffee and fixing a dinner that doesn’t involve cheese dust or cheap chocolate.

“Oh my God, Derek, shut up,” Stiles moans from the sofa where his face is hidden in a pile of pillows. “You’re supposed to be nice to me. I’ve got a million finals to take, and I have to take it with a broken heart.” He burrows more deeply into the pillows.

Derek rolls his eyes and brings out a plate of food. “Please, if your heart were broken, you wouldn’t be eating this much.” Derek sits down next to him and pulls him out of his nest. “If you were really mourning, I wouldn’t have gotten a call from Scott begging me to take over babysitting duties. He’d be here, rubbing your back and eating ice cream with you.”

Stiles sits up, a pillow imprint on his face. “Ugh, Scott, that fucker. I can’t believe he ratted me out.” He pouts and then grabs the plate of food off of Derek. “Who says my heart isn’t broken, anyway? I was with Zac for a month.” He chews petulantly.

“If you were heartbroken, you wouldn’t be rolling your eyes and turning off your phone every time he’s texted or called—and that’s just today.” Derek hands him a napkin and judges him with his eyebrows when Stiles misses his mouth and drops a big glob of sauce on his lap.

Stiles grabs the napkin and sticks out his tongue. “Fine. I’m mad that my fuckbuddy wants more.  I was hoping to blow off some stress with orgasms, and now I’m dealing with an overly invested person who keeps wanting to have relationship determining talks.” He gulps down his soda and lets out a large burp. “I have no idea how this spiraled out of control, but right now I need to study for my finals and crank out these papers.”

Derek gets up from the sofa and starts washing dishes. “Well, you go ahead and do that. I’m just going to clean up here and then get out of your way.”

“Wait, you’re leaving? I thought you were staying at least the night?” Stiles says, jumping up from the couch and leaning on the counter as Derek starts soaping up the sponge.

Shaking his head, Derek says, “No, I’ve got that pesky job, remember? You’re finishing up your year, but high school goes all the way up to June. I’m already taking time off for your graduation. I’m not going to waste it cooking and cleaning for someone who’s irritated by a lack of ready orgasms.”

Stiles grins evilly. “Well, you could help me with that instead of cooking and cleaning. Bet we could knock out a few before the sun goes down,” he says, leaning in with a leer.

Wet sponge in hand, Derek flicks him with water and keeps washing. “Stiles, you seriously need to focus here. You’re just looking for excuses to procrastinate. Scott told me you’re on the last pages of your thesis. Get it done, Stiles.”

Stiles leans forward and bites Derek’s shoulder before plopping back onto the couch. “I just need a break, dude. I’ve been working on fumes for days.” He picks up his plate and begins eating again.

Derek turns off the water and then comes to perch on the side of the couch. “I know. That’s why I came up—to feed you and clean up your shit so that you don’t have to worry about those things. Scott said you’ve been eating sugar and caffeine for days.”

“It’s easy and portable,” Stiles grumbles, taking another bite of the whole grain pasta Derek made. “I can’t just throw shit together and make it taste good the way you can,” he snaps.

Refusing to be baited, Derek merely exhales loudly. “I brought up a bunch of healthy shakes, so drink those if you’re too lazy to get something more substantial. They’ll give you energy and fill you up. Leave some for Scott, okay?”

“Why should I? He ratted me out.”

“Yeah, and look at the result—someone coming up and making you food and doing your laundry so you have clean underwear for your final exams, the last of your entire college career.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right,” Stiles says as he leans back and closes his eyes. “I’m just being grumpy.” He turns to Derek, eyes still closed, and says, “You know I appreciate it, right? Always do.”

“I know. I’m not doing it for the appreciation, but I know.” Derek runs his hands over Stiles’s hair affectionately. “You’re so close to being done.”

Stiles turns his face into Derek’s hand, leaning into its warmth. “I know. Maybe I’m just not ready for post-college life.” He shakes his head. “Can’t think about that now anyway.”

Derek caresses his head one more time before standing up. “One step at a time, babe.” He smiles when Stiles scrunches his nose at the term of endearment. “Now finish that pasta and get back to work.”

 

Derek goes on a road trip with Cora, visiting South America and simply being around each other, learning the things that made up those stolen years of Cora’s life as a child.

When he returns, he feels something settle when he opens the door and smells all the various pack members who have become fixtures in his home, his heart. Derek throws his bag directly into the laundry room and then grabs a glass of water, downing it quickly. He rolls his shoulders as he heads upstairs, stripping his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans as he heads down the hallway. The desire to wash all the travel off of him and sink into his bed for days is overwhelming. His time with Cora was so wonderful, but he’s ready for the comfort of his own home, despite the warm welcome of all the various people Cora considers as her extended family. Derek will never feel that way about them, but he’s thankful that Cora wanted to share that piece with him. She’s gone down to visit every summer, but this is the first time she’s included him in that pilgrimage. They’re closer than ever, and his bones finally feel rid of the chill that came back once Peter left their lives for the final time.

When he reaches his bedroom, Derek huffs fondly when he finds Stiles sprawled on the bed, wearing one of his t-shirts with his face smushed into Derek’s pillow. He decides to let him sleep and strips the rest of his clothes before heading to the shower.

Derek luxuriates in the shower, enjoying the hard beat of water against his shoulders and the warmth of the hot steam collecting inside the stall. He washes slowly, letting the tension of being in the car for a month slowly slip down the drain. When Derek finally gets out of the shower, he towels off quickly and then slips on a pair of briefs. Stiles is still sleeping, so he simply slides in next to him, breathing in his cozy scent of honey and night air, and quickly falls asleep.

**

Derek wakes up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Stiles’s feet puttering around his kitchen. He has no idea what time it is or even what day it is, but his stomach tells him it’s time for food. Throwing on a shirt and a pair of baggy sweats, he heads towards the kitchen.

There he finds Stiles, completely at ease, a big grin on his face when he sees him plodding into the dining room. Stiles puts down the spatula and comes to give Derek a big hug.

“Go, sit down. You still look pretty exhausted.” He nudges Derek into one of the stools at the granite counter and turns back to the stove, where he’s apparently making Derek’s favorite breakfast.

Soon Derek has a plate of shredded potatoes topped with sunny side up eggs and a side of bacon. It smells delicious, and Derek sighs happily at the way the egg seeps into the potatoes when he presses his fork into it. He eats almost half of the plate before he finally looks up and gives Stiles a smile. “Guess you kept the house warm for me?

Stiles chuckles sheepishly, his large hands around a mug of coffee. He takes a sip and then says, “I always sleep better in your bed anyway.”

Shrugging in agreement, Derek says, “That’s true.” He continues to eat. “So did anything interesting happen while I was gone? Nothing too horrible, I hope.”

Instead of responding, Stiles takes a long gulp of his coffee and then swallows slowly.

Derek puts his fork down when he realizes Stiles seems nervous. “Stiles? Is everything okay? Are you okay? Something happened while I was gone. Why didn’t you call me or text me or something?” Derek hears himself grow anxious, but Stiles’s heart is beating rapidly, and he’s bracing himself for the worst.

Stiles blinks and shakes his head. “No, no, Derek. It’s nothing bad. Fuck, I didn’t mean to worry you. Keep eating. I mean, I have stuff to talk about but it’s nothing earth-shattering. Well, I mean—” Stiles cuts himself off to get up and refill his mug and grab more food.

Derek watches his back as Stiles walks towards the stove, the tension in his shoulders and the fluttering nervousness of his heartbeat. As he swirls his fork in the eggy potatoes, he tries to push down the anxiety that starts to claw up his throat. He doesn’t want to think the worst; he reminds himself that Stiles was sleeping peacefully in his bed just moments ago, that he was fine in his home, cooking Derek’s favorite breakfast. Maybe he just needs to ask for money or something. Maybe it’s just a favor for his dad. Maybe the sheriff’s department needs another player on the spring softball team, maybe the pack wants to redecorate the living room, maybe he scratched the Camaro. Derek breathes in and out and forces himself to take another bite.

Heaping plate in hand, Stiles comes back with more potatoes as well as a stack of rye toast. He starts to butter a piece and hands it to Derek before buttering one for himself.

Silently, Derek takes it and waits, focusing on the way Stiles unsuccessfully attempts to calm himself. He reaches out and places a hand on Stiles’s wrist, feeling his pulse jump with the touch. “Stiles, just tell me. You can tell me anything. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine,” he murmurs, hoping to soothe his nerves.

Huffing dismissively, Stiles looks away, though he doesn’t move his hand from Derek’s touch. He licks his lips and puts down the toast. “I missed you,” he says softly, glancing at him before lowering his eyes again.

“I missed you, too,” Derek says, sliding his hand back. “It was really nice coming home and feeling that it really was home—not just a place but a home, you know?” He rips off a piece of bread and pops it in his mouth. “Even if I found Goldilocks sleeping in my bed.”

Though his cheeks flush slightly, Stiles just rolls his eyes. “That wasn’t exactly the plan, but I didn’t know what time you were coming home. Just got tired of waiting, I guess.” He takes a large bite of toast and washes it down with coffee.

“Got tired of waiting so you decided to put on one of my t-shirts and sleep on my pillow?” Derek asks with a raise of an eyebrow. “Not that I minded,” he says with a sleepy smile. “It was nice crawling into a warm bed.”

Stiles just looks at him, a strange look on his face.

“What?” Derek asks with his mouth full. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Stiles averts his eyes for a moment before looking at him again, his mouth pursed in determination. “Do you…ever wonder what it would be like to always have a warm bed waiting for you?” he asks before biting his lip out of habit.

Noticing the change in Stiles’s voice, Derek lets his eyes rove all over Stiles’s face. Before answering, he swallows his food and then takes a sip of coffee. “I—of course. There was a time, a bit ago, when that wasn’t the case, when the last thing I wanted was something like that. But now? Yeah. I want that,” he says carefully, rubbing his thumb on the warmth of the coffee mug. “Do you?” Derek asks, looking up at Stiles through his lashes.

“I do,” Stiles says quietly, his eyes still downcast. “I think for a while I didn’t, or maybe I didn’t think I would be good for it or good enough or something,” he says as his voice trails off. “But recently, I guess I’ve been thinking about it more.”

Derek swallows, still unsure of the direction of the conversation. He feels that he’s on the cusp of something big for Stiles, but he’s not sure what it is. Not wanting to break the fragility of the moment, he speaks cautiously. “Did you meet someone?” Derek asks as he takes the last bite of bacon, hoping his voice conveys just the right combination of interest and nonchalance.

Stiles shakes his head and looks away again. “No,” he says simply.

Though Derek tries to wait for Stiles to continue, he’s never been the best at silence. He gets up to put his plate away and lingers at the sink, washing off the remnants of his meal before putting it in the dishwasher. Sensing Stiles come up behind him, Derek makes himself stay still even when Stiles reaches around him and places his dish into the sink. Derek takes a slow breath when he feels Stiles’s body lightly press against his back.

“Derek?”

Derek feels Stiles’s soft voice tickle his ear. He doesn’t respond but merely turns around. Stiles doesn’t move back but stays in his space, his eyes searching for something.

“Yeah,” Derek breathes. He means for it to come out as a question, a response to Stiles’s utterance of his name, but it comes out more as an answer—an answer that he’s been yearning to give for longer than he’s willing to admit.

“Yeah?” Stiles responds, a quiet smile slowly starting to spread across his face.

Derek feels his own smile blossom in response as he repeats, “Yeah.”

They stare at each other for a little, stupid grins mirrored on their faces, until finally Derek huffs at their ridiculousness and leans in for a kiss. It’s not a first kiss, not a kiss leading to sex, but a kiss of familiarity, of fondness and affection, of love. It’s perfect.

“Cora called me deliberately obtuse,” Derek says once they move out of the kitchen. They end up lying on the couch together, pressed up against each other and basking in each other’s warmth.

“Did she actually call you that, or are you paraphrasing?” Stiles says as he looks up at Derek from his place where he’s been writing stupidly endearing letters on his chest with his fingers.

Derek tightens his arm around Stiles and says, “I think her exact words were ‘blind dumbass who chooses not to be happy’ with an emphases on dumbass.”

Laughing, Stiles presses his face into Derek’s chest. “I guess it has been building for a long time,” he says into Derek’s shirt. He sniffs and then turns to sit with his back to Derek’s chest. Pulling Derek’s arms around him, Stiles says, “Scott always got on my case about just hooking up with you but not dating you.” He fiddles with Derek’s hands.

“Same with Boyd. Not in so many words, but the judgment was there,” Derek says in agreement. “And honestly, at first it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Stiles nods and turns into Derek’s neck. “I mean, there was probably a reason I felt comfortable enough to ask you, but at the time I was really just trying to figure things out.” He feels Derek press a kiss to his temple and smiles. “When it kept happening, I think I’d already categorized it in my head as something else, so it never occurred to me to consider the possibility of dating. That sounds stupid, I know,” Stiles says as he buries his face in Derek’s neck. “I don’t think I was totally ready to face my feelings about you. It was easier just to flirt and hook up and not think about how I felt whenever you dated someone else.”

Derek makes an indignant noise. “What about you? Calling me the morning after you had someone fuck you for the first time?”

Turning quickly, Stiles gives Derek a tight, apologetic hug. “I’m sorry! I know. That was a total dick move. I still don’t quite get why I felt the need to do that.” He rubs his face into Derek’s neck in apology. But what about Rachele?”

“What about her? I told you it wasn’t ever really serious.”

“I know, but you also didn’t say having sex with me was better than sex with her,” Stiles replies petulantly.

Derek feels him sulking and pushes up to make Stiles face him directly. “Seriously, Stiles?” he asks incredulously.

Though Stiles knows he’s being stupid, he’s never forgotten that moment, the phone call where he’d teasingly asked who was better in bed, and Derek had merely laughed. “It’s just dumb stuff, Derek.” He’s about to tell him to forget it when suddenly he’s up in the air, thrown over Derek’s shoulder and being hauled into Derek’s bedroom, where he’s dropped unceremoniously onto Derek’s large bed. His words of protest die when Derek’s mouth covers his own, filthy and deep and demanding. Stiles can feel himself hardening and is about to thrust up when Derek pulls back and cups his face.

“Sex with Rachele was great. But there was never any comparison. Sex with you is indescribable.”

Before Stiles can answer, Derek captures his lips again. And again, he’s pushed to the edge and about to moan when Derek pulls back and says, “It’s overwhelming and ridiculous, and don’t even try to tell me it’s not the same for you.”

Stiles shakes his head as he breathes heavily. “It’s never been as good with others as it’s been with you. I never knew if I just built it up in my head or what, but it’s always been you.” Stiles grabs Derek’s face and kisses him thoroughly before rolling them and kissing him again. “I used to say it was just the difference between sex with men and women, but even with Thomas it wasn’t close.”

Derek leans forward and kisses Stiles, grabbing his ass and sliding their bodies together. “Are you really going to list all your conquests and compare them to me right now?” Derek says as he starts nipping at Stiles’s neck.

“No, because there’s no comparison,” Stiles says as he pants. “Right? Isn’t that what you said?” He throws back his head and lets Derek rub his scruff all over him, shuddering with every movement.

There’s no verbal answer. Derek just finds Stiles’s mouth again, and their tongues dance until they’re both breathless and moaning. Sliding his hands up Stiles’s torso, Derek pulls off Stiles’s shirt before throwing off his own; their sweats soon join the pile of discarded clothing. They kiss again, and the added sensation of skin against skin amplifies every feeling. Derek runs his hands over inch of Stiles’s body, and he relishes the feeling of the taut, lean muscles quivering under his touch. Nudging Stiles up for a moment, he reaches into his night stand for lube.

Stiles is about to roll off to spread his legs, but Derek stops him. “Still one thing you haven’t done, right?” Derek asks quietly as he hands Stiles the lube.

Stiles’s eyes widen as he silently takes the lube. Leaning forward, he kisses Derek softly once, twice, before resting his forehead on Derek’s collarbone and tries to get his breathing under control. Derek merely kisses his head and opens his legs wider to get things started.

“Fuck, Derek, you are going to be the death of me,” Stiles wheezes out when he feels Derek’s legs spread beneath him. He kisses Derek fiercely and then sits back on his knees to look at him directly. “Lots and lots of little deaths,” he murmurs as he spreads lube on his fingers and rubs them together. He stares at them and at Derek, as if unsure of what to do next.

Derek takes his hand and slips their fingers together, getting both their hands slick before guiding them between his legs.

The moment he presses his wet fingers against Derek’s hole, Stiles exhales shakily. Hearing the crazy patter of Stiles’s heart, Derek uses one hand to draw him in for a reassuring kiss and the other to show him how to rub lazy circles against his rim. Derek breaks the kiss with a moan when Stiles finger pushes in gently for a moment, and he spreads his legs even wider to encourage him. Stiles nips at Derek’s collarbone and continues to caress his hole, each move becoming bolder and more confident. Eventually, Derek moves his hand completely and stretches out his entire body before Stiles, giving him the power to do whatever he wants.

Stiles sits back and watches Derek’s reactions as he slides in a finger more deeply, closing his eyes briefly at the tight heat enveloping his finger. His other hand slowly moves up and down Derek’s thigh, loving the feel of hair curling between his fingers. Bit by bit Stiles stretches Derek with one long finger, cataloguing which angles make Derek’s breath hitch and hiss. When he adds a second finger, he groans at the way Derek’s hips thrust up in response. Giving into the impulse to lick the bit of pre-come dripping out of the head, Stiles lets himself feel smug at the whimper that gets caught in Derek’s throat.

“More,” Derek says as he moves to grip Stiles’s hand on his thigh. “Shit, Stiles, please, more,” he chants, his hard cock jerking with anticipation. Stiles starts moving his hand faster, twisting and scissoring with three fingers as he bobs his head on Derek’s cock. His own cock is red with arousal, and he has to take a moment to grip himself before he even gets a chance to be inside Derek.

Tugging on Stiles’s hand, Derek pulls him up for a filthy kiss before rolling them quickly. He then slides back until Stiles’s cock rubs into the groove of his ass.

Stiles falls back on the covers with a gasp, even harder than he thought was possible. “Fuck,” Stiles moans, his eyes screwed tight. He blinks them open and then sees Derek lift slightly and position himself above Stiles’s dick. Stiles reaches down to grip himself and tries not to pass out from the sensation of Derek sinking down onto him, inch by delicious inch. He looks at Derek’s face, his eyes fluttering closed and his mouth open and slack with pleasure. When Derek finally bottoms out, they both stay still, breathing heavily and adjusting to the feeling of being joined, not moving until Derek squeezes around him and Stiles whimpers in pleasure.

That gets them moving, and then Derek slides his hands up and down Stiles’s torso as he makes little circular motions, punctuated by his shallow breaths. With Stiles's large hands on his hips, Derek starts moving faster; Stiles starts thrusting up into him, enjoying the way Derek’s cock bounces with each shift. Stiles can feel himself getting inching towards orgasm, which is when Derek starts riding him hard, using his muscular thighs to rise and fall in erotic rhythm. They both lean forward and kiss desperately, breathing into each other and swallowing each other’s moans as they move higher and higher together. Stiles surges up, shifting them slightly so that their chests touch, and then grips Derek’s ass to grind them together tightly. He bites lightly at Derek neck, that place right below his earlobe, and then Derek comes with a shout.

He continues to spurt onto Stiles’s abs, his harsh pants tickling Stiles’s ear. Stiles keeps thrusting, and Derek squeezes tightly, urging him to come. It doesn’t take long, and Stiles wraps his arms tightly around Derek’s body as he pulses inside him, his breath unsteady and his body flushed from exertion. They stay in each other’s arms, bodies sweaty and warm, as they come down from ecstasy and try to breathe normally again.

Drunk on orgasms, they kiss sluggishly, grinning and snorting. Derek eventually gets them cleaned up, mostly while Stiles lies there and smiles affectionately .

As the sunlight fades against the bed, Stiles turns Derek so that he can press his nose against Derek’s tattoo. “That garden was the best thing you could’ve ever done for me,” he says quietly before kissing him gently and wrapping his arms tightly around him.

Derek caresses Stiles’s strong forearms and leans into Stiles’s warmth. “Best thing for both of us,” he murmurs as he slides his leg in between Stiles’s, making them completely wrapped up in each other.

They fall into a dreamless, satisfying sleep.

 

When Scott sees them for the first time after they admit they are really, finally dating, Stiles and Derek are walking leisurely towards the garden behind Derek’s house, holding hands. He jumps on top of both their backs and says, “I was rooting for you crazy kids!” He first puts Derek into a headlock but then throws himself onto Stiles, and they end up rolling around on the grass, with Scott tickling him and making Stiles shout for help.

Meanwhile, Kira jumps on Derek’s back, easily throwing her arms around his neck, and kisses Derek on the cheek. She watches Stiles and Scott from her piggyback perch and then whispers, “I’m so happy for you, Derek. I like the way he makes you happy.” Derek can’t help but smile back, and Kira just keeps hugging him, scrunching her nose at the way Scott and Stiles are being both ridiculous and adorable at the same time.

Eventually she gets down and pulls Scott off of Stiles, who pouts and rubs the part of his side where Scott repeatedly poked him. Derek reaches out a hand and pulls him up before leaning forward and kissing that part of his body.

“No horseplay in the garden,” Derek says in his teacher voice, even as his arms are completely wrapped around Stiles. “Go get some tomatoes and peppers for dinner. We’re making ragout.”

“Mom’s ragout?” Stiles asks, pulling back to look Derek in the eyes.

Nodding, Derek simply says, “Surprise.”

That, of course, makes Stiles immediately jump up and straddle him to go for an extravagantly filthy kiss. Eventually Derek pushes him off, firmly though affectionately, and then they all head into the house.

Soon the entire pack is there, including Stiles’s dad and Scott’s mom, and the house is alive with heartbeats and laughing chatter. Things are actually not that different from before, which probably should’ve been an indication of how deeply in denial they both were. The scents of contentment and love weave in between the smell of ragout and freshly baked garlic bread, and Stiles and Derek are only caught twice making out in the kitchen before Scott finally breaks, yelling, “DUDE!” before turning around telling everyone to stay out of the kitchen if they don’t want their eyes to be scarred.

Derek pulls away when he hears Lydia heading towards them, a knowing look on her face, but Stiles just winks at her and mouths “Later.” For some reason, at that look Derek starts chuckling, and he can’t seem to stop, even when he looks surprised at the sound of his own laughter. It’s contagious, of course, and so Stiles starts snickering as well. They both look up when they hear footsteps, and the sight of the entire pack staring at them in confusion and disbelief only sets them off again, laughing and clutching each other, eyes tearing up with merriment.

The picture that Lydia takes of that moment is framed and hung on the wall right by the front door; every time they pass by it, fingers trailing against the glass, they smile.


	6. Chapter 6

 

“Definitely better than the fantasy,” Stiles gasps as Derek continues to drive into him, pinning him against his bedroom door. He clenches around Derek’s dick and dives in for another kiss before breaking off with a whimper.

“Yeah? Thought about this a lot?” Derek ask breathlessly, his hands cradling Stiles’s ass. “Is there something else you want me to do? Something I should say to fulfill your fantasy?” Derek’s voice breaks at the end when he feels Stiles bite his earlobe and rake his fingernails down his back.

“You’re doing a pretty good job without my direction,” Stiles bites out. His breaths start coming faster, and he moans loudly when Derek grips his cock and thumbs his slit. “Fuck, uh, no complaints,” Stiles stammers out between pants.

Derek leans in for a bruising kiss and then thrusts one last time, knocking Stiles’s head back against the door. He stills inside him and then jerks Stiles once, twice, then feels the hot come splashing on his hand as he swallows Stiles’s sobs of pleasure.

They’re both breathing heavily, and Derek steps back to carry Stiles to the bed. Sitting gingerly, Derek then lies back with a loud and shaky exhale, Stiles still in his arms.

“Oh my god, I have been thinking about doing that for years,” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s chest, still boneless from his orgasm. He smiles when he feels Derek’s snort.

“Are we acting out our fantasies now?” Derek asks as he runs his hands up and down Stiles’s back. “I’ll have to look into a private pool.”

Stiles looks up at Derek in surprise. “Really? The pool?”

Derek glares at him. “You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

“Of course I have. I have a whole sex bucket of Derek Hale fantasies. I just never thought you had your own,” Stiles says teasingly.

“Shut up. Do you have any idea what you look like when you’re wet? Your mouth? And your lashes?”

Stiles’s eyes wide in surprise, and then he laughs delightedly. “I will look into pool immediately,” he murmurs against Derek’s lips before kissing the glare off his mouth. “Then maybe you can tell me about your private property.”

Stiles gets a tiny bruise from where Derek pinches his ass in response, but later Derek does his best to soothe the pain, even if it means getting leaves in a few unfortunate places.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed my first Big Bang. This story is very dear to my heart, not only because of Sterek but also because of the real-life events that inspired the twists and turns of their relationship. If this fic moved you in any way, leave a comment <3

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always welcome. Come visit us on tumblr!  
> \- Author [fauvistfly](http://fauvistfly.tumblr.com)  
> \- Artist [risowator](http://risowator.tumblr.com)


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